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L. B.ArBINO 



BOSTON: 

HEATH AND HRAVES, 

79 CORNHILL. 

1854 . 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by 
HEATH & GRAVES, 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 


\ 


Stereotyped by 
HOBART & ROBBINS, 
Boston. 


PREFACE. 


I AM aware of the inutility of prefaces to most 
readers ; but I wish to tell those, in whose hands 
this little book may fall, that I began with the idea 
of writing a translation, but changed my mind 
after a page or two. Those who read French will 
find “ Esther de Chaseuil ” a very pretty story — 
much prettier, perhaps, than mine, though of a 
diffOrent character. 

I have seen many brave people struggling 
through life with stout hearts and steady purpose, 
and I have invariably found that they are better 
satisfied with the allotments of Providence, and 
more useful to mankind, than those who have never 
been driven to exertion by necessity. 

It seems to me that industry contributes very 
much to our comfort in all stations and conditions 
of life ; but there is a greater difference between 
systematic, quiet industry, and impulsive, noisy 
bustle, than most people imagine. The one is 
useful and cheerful, always ready to do anything 
for anybody, having time enough ; the other, im- 


IV 


PREFACE. 


patient and unhappy, troubled with much labor, 
having no time to help a distressed* brother, ever 
worn and haggard, though doing little or nothing. 

Esther, I believe, understood the secret of living 
so as to wear a cheerful face eveti in the darkest 
trials. If her example was good, may we all profit 
by it. 


L. B. U. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. 

' Page. 


ESTHER’S NEW HOME, 7 

CHAPTER II. 

THE PRESENTATION, 23 

, CHAPTER III. 

NEW PLANS, 36 

CHAPTER IV. 

A THRILLING SCENE, ^ 48 

CHAPTER V. 

A KITCHEN SCENE, 53 

CHAPTER VI. 

DOMESTIC ECONOMY, 65 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE ENCHANTMENT OF BENEVOLENCE, 76 

CHAPTER VIII. 

HOME TRIALS, 91 

CHAPTER IX. 

VISIT TO AMERICA, 103 

1 * 


vr 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER X. 

Pa?e. 

DE TACT’S RETURN, 113 

CHAPTER XI. 

REVERSES OF FORTUNE 122 

CHAPTER XII. 

ESTHER IN ADVERSITT, 131 

CHAPTER XIII. 

ESTHER’S JOURNAL, 150 

CHAPTER XIV. 

M. LE GENDRE’S DEATH, 158 

CHAPTER ,XV. 

OPPRESSION’S DEVICES, . . 168 

CHAPTER XVI. 

ESTHER REACHES HER RELATIVES, 180 

CHAPTER XVII. 

DE LACY AND HIS COUSIN, 192 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

ESTHER WITH HER RELATIVES, 205 

CHAPTER XIX. 

ESTHER IN HER NEW HOME, “ 214 

CHAPTER XX. 

MEETING WITH DE LACY, 225 


CHAPTER I. 


ESTHER’S NEW HOME. 

The clock of Saint Philip struck five. The 
rising sun shed its vermilion light on the noble 
mansion which attracts the eje of every stranger 
in that vicinity, and glanced into a chamber where 
the silence and repose of night reigned. This 
chamber, whose windows opened upon a garden, 
was arranged in a simple and exquisite manner. 
The window-curtains were of white damask. The 
toilet-table, ornamented with rich lace, bespoke 
the wealth and taste of its owner. A clock and 
alabaster vases decorated the chimney. Pictures 
representing Christ and his disciples were sus- 
pended in rich frames ; roses and the lily of the 
valley were here and there in dishes held by mar- 
ble cherubs. Who occupied this chamber? A 
young girl, reader, whom I will presently intro- 
duce to you. 


8 


THE HAPPY WAKING. 


Just as the alabaster clock repeated the hour 
struck by Saint Philip,- the young girl, upon whose 
lips played a sweet smile, opened her eyes. One 
of her arms fell gently upon the embroidered quilt, 
and with the other she drew aside the white silk 
curtains, and looked about, as if to see where she 
was. Apparently happy thoughts were crowding 
into her mind, for she smiled and ejaculated in a 
low, but sweet voice : Heavenly Father ! how 
good art thou to thy handmaid ! ’’ Then, rising 
hastily, she caught a glimpse of her own beautiful 
face in the large mirror which hung in front of 
her bed, and said, “ How contented I am ! ” 
Throwing a shawl over her shoulders, she walked 
around the room, stopping before every article of 
furniture with surprise and admiration, and ex- 
claiming, “ Beautiful ! beautiful ! ” 

At the windows she remained some time longer 
inhaling the perfume of roses with which the 
alley was bordered ; then seating herself thought- 
fully, she said, “0, how pretty is all this ! My 
dear, good father, how much trouble you have 
taken for me ! How could you know, so well, 
what would please me ! How I do love my beau- 


THE GRATEFUL CONTRAST. 


9 


tiful white chamber ! How happy I shall be 
here ! What a difference between this and my 
little room in the country [ Yet I was happy 
there ! ” added she. “ Every one was kind to me ; 
the country is always smiling, and the sun shines 
brighter on the green fields than on these stone 
houses ; there are as beautiful flowers on the hill- 
side as in this garden. 0, these rosebuds ! Dear 
rosebuds, how' I love you ! ” 

Then, w'ith a heart filled with gratitude to the 
Giver of all things, she knelt beside her bed, and, 
leaning her face upon her hands, thus gave vent 
to her feelings : ‘‘ Great God, I thank thee for all 
these beautiful things around me ; for these sweet 
flowers w'hich breathe freshness and love ; for this 
white drapery, w'hich speaks of purity ; for the 
bright sun, emblem of thy glory ; for all that 
is under my feet and over my head ; for this 
comfortable bed, and the sweet dreams of my 
guardian spirit ! I thank thee for the thousand 
sources of happiness in the beautiful world in which 
I live ! I thank thee for the silent joys w'hich 
spring from my own glad heart ! 

She was still at prayer when a middle-aged 


10 


AFFECTIONATE SIMPLICITY. 


woman half opened the door, and said, in a low 
voice, 

“ Already risen ! ” 

“ Is it you, Mrs. Abel 7” cried the young girl, 
running to embrace her. “ Good morning, dear 
friend ; how glad I am to see you first ! It is not 
very early, — look at the clock, — in the country 
I was dressed every morning at five ! ” 

“ That is a good habit, but you will soon lose it 
here,” replied the good woman, smiling. ‘‘ We 
do not rise in the city as in the country. I thought 
you would be too tired to wake early, after the 
excitement of last evening.” 

“ The thought of being with you and my father 
has caused me to wake. What a change since 
yesterday ! Certainly I was happy in the coun- 
try ; shall I hot be more so here 7 ” 

“ 0 yes, you must and will be as happy as any 
one can expect to be in this changing world! 
You are good and beautiful ; your father is im- 
mensely rich, and you are an only child ; this will 
make you happy in the eyes of the world ; but, 
my dear, your happiness depends upon yourself ; 
you are in a responsible situation, and to the 


FILIAL AFFECTION. 


11 


evenness of your temper, and your own quiet con- 
science, must you look for that peace which man 
cannot take away. I am glad that your father 
has taken so much pains to make your room beau- 
tiful ; for I think the sight of beautiful things does 
us good.’’ 

“My dear nurse, the sight of you does me 
good ! ” said Esther. 

Mrs. Abel embraced her affectionately, saying, 
“I must call you my child, my own dear child, 
at least when we are alone ! ” 

“0, always, always ! ” said she, pressing the 
hands of her foster mother to her breast. “ Last 
evening I was grieved when you called me Miss 
Le Gendre. If company requires cold ceremony, I 
would much prefer being alone. Are you not 
almost a mother to me ? I ’m sure you were the 
first person I loved, and, for a long time, I loved 
you only. I have known my father but very lit- 
tle, and when I was small I feared him much.” 

“ And how do you feel towards him now 7 ” 
asked the anxious woman, with some disquiet. 

“At present,” replied Esther, “I love him 
with all my heart ; but, I cannot help having a 


12 


FILIAL CONFIDENCE. 


fear of him. I don’t know how it is, but with all 
his kindness, there is a something. I feel towards 
him as I did towards our teacher, who made us all 
tremble when she frowned.” 

“ But your father is very, very kind ! ” ejacu- 
lated Mrs. Abel. 

0, I know it, I know it ! ” answered she, with 
animation. “And I shall understand him soon, I 
hope. You must remember that I am a stranger 
here ; yesterday was the first time I entered his 
house.” 

“Poor child! It is too true!” murmured 
Mrs. Abel. Then, making Esther sit down by her 
side, and looking at her with tender solicitude, she 
added, “My dear Esther, do you know that your 
father will present you, this evening, to his 
friends ? Does not the idea of doing the honors 
of the house, at your age, trouble you? ” 

“ 0, mercy, no ! ” exclaimed she, with care- 
less gay ety. “I intend to amuse myself. They 
can expect nothing from a country girl like me ! 
I shall act myself ! ” 

“ But will not the display of rich dresses and 
jewelry dazzle you ? Don’t you feel concerned 


A NEW THOUGHT. 


13 


about your own looks, and the impressfen you will 
make 1 ” 

“Not at all,’^ said Esther; “you just put it 
into my head.” 

“What a child you are ! ” said Mrs. Abel. 

“ Very true, I am a child,” continued Esther, 
becoming more thoughtful. “I did not know 
how ignorant and simple I was till yesterday. 
Since then I have made a serious reflection.” 

“ Ah ! And what was it 7 ” 

“ I have asked myself why, since I was des- 
tined to live in the world, my father has caused 
me to be educated at a village school. I almost 
fear that I shall miss the unrestrained simplicity 
which I have hitherto enjoyed. I can never be a 
fashionable lady ; I have no taste for what is called 
society. I wish I could be with you and my 
father.” 

“ You will be with us, my dear ; and as to your 
education, your father wished you to be as the 
ladies of olden times, a woman, a true woman ! 
The education of the boarding-schools of Paris 
was not in conformity with his ideas. He did not 
wish that you should make a display of learning, 
2 


14 


A father’s ambition. 


talents, or accomplishments; he wished you to 
learn to be good, and, for that purpose, he placed 
you with honest, good people, who could realize 
the value of an immortal soul, committed to their 
care. You have been with them sixteen years, — 
no, ten years, for you are but sixteen now, — and 
you seem to be what I have prayed that you 
might be. God grant that your entrance into this 
house may be like the shining of light into the 
dark places of the earth ! ” 

“ During these long years it has often seemed 
to me that I must be with my relations ; that I 
had no father’s house to go to ; he came to see me 
so seldom, and you almost never,” said she, with 
a sigh. 

‘‘Alas, my child ! ” replied Mrs. Abel ; “ it was 
impossible for me to be with you, and your father 
has spent almost all his time in travelling. As 
for me, I may say I have never been free. While 
my poor, sick husband lived, I could not leave 
him. He is no more, and, God willing, I shall 
devote the remainder of my life to you, though I 
am but a poor, ignorant woman, who knows but 
little of the world, such as you will be obliged to 


A YEARNING HEART. 


15 


move in, and can give you no advice as to the 
manner in which you should demean yourself in 
it ; but, perhaps, in matters which concern your 
interior life, and the feelings of your heart, I shall 
be able to help, or at least to counsel you ; for love 
will often supply the place of w^isdom, and I have 
loved and do love you as my own child.” 

There was a pause, then Mrs. Abel continued : 
“ My child, there are persons, whom you must 
never question.” 

“ Do you refer to my father ? ” asked Esther, 
blushing slightly. Do you think he was angry 
with me last evening ? ” 

“ Not angry, but sad ; he is always sad if your 
mother is but mentioned.” 

“ How unfortunate ! There are so many things 
that I would like to ask about her. I have 
thought so long about it. But you can tell me 
something about my dear mother, can you not ? 
Did not you know her?” 

Mrs. Abel, sighing, shook her head. 

“ But you must have heard her spoken of ; she 
had but just died when you came to live with my 
father. Were not the people who had waited 


16 


THE ANXIOUS INQUIRY. 


upon her there ? Tell me, was she beloved, re- 
gretted 7 ” 

“Yes, they said she was gentle and good, — 
they loved her devotedly. From* what I have 
heard, I doubt not but that she is an angel in 
heaven.” 

“ 0, I have seen an angel, many times, in my 
dreams! Was it my mother?” sobbed Esther. 
“ Tell me, pray tell me, all you know about 
her I ” 

“Alas, my dear! Do not question me now. 
’T is a sad tale, and will make you weep. Your 
father will not like to see your eyes red. You 
must appear as cheerful as possible for his sake as 
well as your own. I read, somewhere in a news- 
paper the other day, that cheerfulness is a duty 
which every one owes to society.” 

Esther inclined her head, with a gesture of 
resigned submission. For a moment she seemed 
to wish to conceal some sad and troubled thought, 
then she burst into tears. 

“What is the matter? What ails you?” 
asked Mrs. Abel, sorrowfully. 

“Nothing, nothing!” replied she, sobbing. 


THE SAD REMEMBRANCE. 


17 


“ ’T is but a remembrance of my childhood, which 
I hoped to have forgotten.’^ 

‘‘ Tell me what troubles you, my good child,”' 
said the nurse. 

“ When I was a very little girl some ladies 
from the city stopped at the house where I lived. 
One of them asked many questions about me, and 
I heard them tell her, in a low voice, that my 
mother died on board of a ship, and was buried in 
the sea. These words made a deep impression on 
me, and many nights have I awoke, with a shud- 
der, thinking I saw the dead body in the water, 
swimming near me. My mother ! dear mother ! 
0, tell me ! — was it so ? ” 

“Alas, my child! ’Tis but too true!” re- 
plied Mrs. Abel. “ I supposed you were ignorant 
of the circumstances of your mother’s death, and, 
therefore, did not wish to speak to you of it.” 

“Now you will tell me all,” said Esther, with 
a sad curiosity. “Tell me how you came to live 
with my father, and all you know about my 
mother and my family, — what has happened, — 
all you can remember.” 

“ Were I to live a hundred years I never 
2* B 


18 


THE MOUKNFUL TALE. 


could forget what I know of your mother ! 
responded Mrs. Abel, with emotion. ‘‘ About the 
first of Feb., 183-, the fine brig St. Jeromino, of 
Cuba, was signalized in the port of Havre. The 
weather had been stormy, and was very boisterous 
through the night ; fears were entertained that the 
brig would be lost ; however, she w^as seen riding 
into port, next morning, dismasted, and bearing 
the marks of a hard struggle with the raging 
elements. Many people rushed to the quay to 
see her enter. I went also, hoping to obtain news 
from my husband, who had been long absent. I 
held my infant, Michael, in my arms. Suddenly 
a man, pushing his way in the crowd, came to 
me, and desired me, in the name of God, to go 
with him on board the brig, saying that a little 
innocent was perishing for want of that suste- 
nance which I could give. I followed him. 0, 
my child, what a picture ! Everything in the 
cabin, to which I was conducted, was in confu- 
sion. The furniture here and there ; rich silk 
curtains soaking in sea-wuter ; the bed empty and 
undressed ; at its side were lying the clothes of a 
woman. A mulattress was seated in a corner, 


THE MOURNFUL TALE. 


19 


holding on her knees an infant, a few days old, 
who seemed almost dead. This infant was you, 
Esther. The woman put you into my arms ; you 
was cold, and your eyes were closed. I pressed 
you to my warm bosom, and, with great difficulty, 
succeeded in imparting a little nourishment ; and, 
whilst I longed to see you revive, I involuntarily 
exclaimed, ‘ The Lord’s will be done ! ’ I was so 
much taken up with you, that I did not, at first, 
notice a man seated at the foot of the bed, with 
his face turned towards the curtain. 

“ ‘ That is Count Le Gendre ; he is the father 
of this poor little child,’ said the woman, observ- 
ing me look at him. 

“ ‘ And, the mother 7 ’ said I. 

“ She drew near me, and said, in a low voice, 
‘ She died, four days ago, an hour after the birth 
of this child. You should have seen that sweet 
young woman ! 0, it almost broke my heart to 

have her thrown into the sea ! But she has gone 
to heaven, I ’m sure ! She said the angels were 
calling her. It was the dreadful storm that ex- 
cited her ; if she had been on shore she would 
have lived. There sits the count. He speaks not ; 


20 


THE MOURNFUL TALE. 


he takes no nourishment; he will die.’ The man 
who sought me, came and begged me to do some- 
thincr for his master. ‘ I have tried in vain to 

O 

make him speak ! What shall I do 7 Heavenly 
Father, help ! ’ 

“ ‘ He only can help,’ said I. Then a thought 
came to me. You had taken a little nourishment, 
and seemed reanimated. I arose and approached 
your father. I trembled; I wept; I could not 
speak. He turned his head towards me ; his eyes 
were dry, and his look wandering. I placed you 
upon his knees, saying tht t you were a little angel, 
whom God had sent to console him. At first, he 
hardly noticed you. I spoke of your mother ; of 
your dependence upon him, your only parent ; of 
the Providence of God, etc. After a while, he 
began to weep, and then to press you to his 
bosom with bitter groans and sighs. He ap- 
peared calmer, and, the same day, went to a 
hotel, where he secluded himself, almost entirely, 
for six months. His health was impaired, and it 
became necessary for him to travel. From that 
time, he has seldom remained in Paris more than 


THE PAINFUL DISCOVERY. 


21 


a few weeks at one time, and has seen you about 
once a year, I think.” 

“ 0, my mother ! my poor, dear mother ! — and 
my father, how unhappy he must have been ! ” 
cried Esther, her face bathed in tears, and with 
the expression of profound grief. “ Now I under- 
stand why he looked so sadly, and answered me 
as he did.” 

“ Time has not yet consoled him,” replied Mrs. 
Abel; “but he represses everything that can 
recall this sad scene. He never speaks of your 
mother, even to me, and sits, hour after hour, in a 
dreamy mood. 0, my child, may God have 
chosen you to minister to his spiritual wants ! I 
fear that he has not learned to trust in that 
Being, who suffers us to be afflicted, that we may 
turn from our evil ways, and find peace with him.” 

“My dear Mrs. Abel, is there any token or 
remembrance of my mother that I can have — 
a portrait, some hair, anything she wore 7 ” 
said Esther, interrupting the good woman, and 
evidently absorbed in the thought of her mother. 

“ I am certain that nothing of hers remains,” 
replied Mrs. Abel. “ Her domestics told me that 


22 


HAPPY ANTICIPATIONS. 


your father married her in St. Augustine ; that 
she was very beautiful, and, for love of him, will- 
ingly left her home, and all her friends, to come 
to a strange country.” 

‘‘ Then I have relatives in America ! Shall I 
ever know them 7 Are they there now 7 ” eagerly 
inquired Esther. 

That I know not ; but I am sure that you 
have no relations in France, at present. Your 
father’s name is much respected, but he seems to 
stand alone.” 

“Will my father travel more, or shall we 
always live here 7 I would like to go to 
America,” continued Esther, after a pause. 

“ Your father says that he shall remain here,” 
replied Mrs. Abel ; “ that is why he has bought 
this house, and arranged it witli so much magnifi- 
cence. Now he is no more isolated ; you are with 
him, and your presence will bring happiness into 
this house.” 

Esther lifted her clasped hands, and said, “God 
grant it ! ” 


CHAPTER II. 


THE PRESENTATION. 

The evening of the same day Esther met her 
father in the reception room a few hours previous 
to the arrival of the expected guests. She was 
dressed in a simple and tasteful manner. On her 
head was the most beautiful diadem which can 
encircle the brow of youth, a garland of roses. 
There were roses also in the folds of her snow- 
white dress, and the mild carnation of the flowers 
increased the lustre of her black hair, and har- 
monized better with, her pale-brown skin than the 
brilliancy of precious gems or stones. The count 
regarded her with a mixture of joy and pride, of 
love and sadness. Then he sighed deeply, as if 
this contemplation had brought some sad remem- 
brance to him. Making an effort to appear tran- 
quil and gay, he said, with a half smile, ‘‘Well, 
my daughter, how do you like the looks of 


24 


A father’s devotion. 


tilings ? Is the house arranged according to your 
taste 7 ” 

‘‘Indeed, I don’t know, papa. I see everything 
beautiful; but — but — ” said she. 

“But what, my child?” interrupted her father. 

“Are all these things necessary? We lived 
very comfortably in the country without all these 
things with which this house is filled.” 

“My dear, innocent Esther, you must not ex- 
pect to live in Paris as you did with good Mrs. 
Porter. Here we must be in society, and I hope 
my daughter will honor her father’s house,” said 
Count Le Gendre, affectionately. 

“I hope that we are not to have company every 
day ; — I wish much to live with you and Mrs. 
Abel,” rejoined Esther. 

“You are my all, Esther,” said her father, 
seriously ; “for you I have purchased this house 
and all this elegant furniture, which seems of so 
little consequence to you ; for your sake I have 
given this entertainment, and if it is not congenial 
to your taste, we will select a few intimates. We 
can live as retired here as we choose. To see you 
happy is all I wish ; the world has no charms for 


SORROWFUL RECOLLECTIONS. 


25 


me.” Here he turned away, and paced the floor 
as if unconscious of the presence of another being. 

M. Le Gendre was still in the prime of life, but 
he bore evident marks of inward grief and the ex- 
posure of fifteen years of travel. His figure was 
remarkably beautiful. At a glance one saw that 
he belonged to a northern race. But Esther had 
neither his traits nor his physiognomy ; she was 
of a type more beautiful and rare. Still, there 
was a strong resemblance between the fresh visage 
of the child and the wasted beauty of the father. 
She charmed most by the striking contrast be- 
tween her waving black hair, satin skin, and ruby 
lips, of the torrid zone, and her clear blue eyes 
and pensive look, so characteristic of the north. 
In her manner she was simple as a little child. 

She had stepped into a side-room, and sat with 
her hands upon her knees, when her father, roused 
from his meditation, followed her. He looked 
at her pensive face an instant, and then said, 
“ Esther, of what are you thinking ? ” ^ 

She sprung, and blushed as if surprised by a 
culpable thought; then turned her head to conceal 
her tears. 


3 


26 


THE EXPLANATION. 


“Mj daughter,’* cried the count, in a sad 
tone, “whj this sorrow? Why do you weep 7 
What is the matter with you ? ’ ’ 

“ 0, pardon, pardon, my father ! ” replied she. 
“ I cannot, I dare not tell you ! ” 

He looked at her anxiously, and said, with a 
voice full of sweetness and tenderness, which 
strongly contrasted with the severity of his words, 
“What signify these tears? Speak, Esther, 
speak ! I require it ! ” 

“ Heavenly Father ! ” murmured she, raising 
her eyes to heaven. 

“Esther, you dare not!” cried the count, 
with an air of sad reproach. 

She joined her hands as if to ask pardon for 
the pain she had caused him, and, trying to sur- 
mount her fear and her emotion, she said, “ Alas ! 
this evening, in seeing myself thus adorned, at the 
moment when I am to appear for the first time in 
society, I feel very sad. I think of a person very 
dear to us, and I weep to see her place between 
us vacant ; this is what I have not dared to say 
to you, my dear father.” 

The count inclined towards* his child, embraced 


THE BRILLIANT ASSEMBLY. 


27 


her, and placing a finger upon her mouth, made 
a sign that all was said upon this subject ; then 
he walked about, to allow her time to recruit 
herself. 

Esther seated herself at the window, and turned 
her moist eyes to the fresh breeze which stirred 
the leaves of the trees. Tears still trembled upon 
her long eyelids ; she passed her handkerchief 
over her face, and tried to recall the force and 
calmness which she should so soon need. 

At this moment some one passed under the win- 
dow. Esther quickly retired. 

‘‘There are people in the garden,” said she, 
approaching her father. 

“ Some one has come early, and walks in the 
garden,” replied he. “ Without doubt there are 
many in the hall awaiting us. It is time to re- 
ceive them. Come, Esther, come.” 

The doors were opened. The brilliancy of the 
lights in the gallery, where the company began to 
assemble, dazzled the young girl. 

“ Come, my daughter,” repeated the count, 
with an accent of proud satisfaction, as well as 
careful protection ; “ they wait for us.” 


28 


THE INTRODUCTION. 


Esther placed her trembling hand upon the arm 
of her father, and allowed herself to be led into 
that brilliant assemblage, with a heart beating 
violently. There was a mixture of beautiful and 
brilliant women, and men eminent for their talents 
or fortune. 

Mrs. Abel, in a modest matronly attire, watched 
the varying expression of her countenance as dif- 
ferent individuals were presented to her. Inward- 
ly she prayed that that pure, innocent spirit 
might not be sullied by coming in contact with 
gross and sensual beings, whose diminutive souls 
seemed hidden under a weight of gold. 

In comparing Esther with others, she could not 
help saying to herself, she is the queen of the 
fete. 

At first, Esther seemed at a loss for words to 
answer the flatteries which annoyed her ; but, after 
a time, her good common sense came so well into 
play, that she found no diflSculty in rebutting 
those young exquisites, who thought they must 
talk nonsense to make themselves agreeable to so 
young, rich and beautiful a girl. 

There were mothers, who felt anxious to form 


4 



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4 


SELFISH CURIOSITY. 


29 


an acquaintance on account of their sons. There 
were men of great name and medium fortune, who 
thought their fame might be an object to a mil- 
lionaire. Sympathy and admiration for the young 
lady were mixed with calculations, projects and 
interests. A gentleman of middle age, whose 
religious character and seclusive habits unfitted 
him for fashionable society, was very much sought 
for this evening. 

He was an Englishman, an old and well-tried 
friend of M. Le Gendre, and he was the only one 
of all that large concourse who could give any 
reliable information respecting the count, and his 
intentions with regard to his daughter. 

Mr. Day had entered college with a view of 
becoming a clergyman, but ill health had driven 
him from his books, and for some years he had 
managed to live comfortably on a very small in- 
come, devoting his time to the education and im- 
provement of the poor. The hope of making 
himself useful to his friend as well as others, had 
induced him to take up his abode for a time in 
Paris. He was active, cheerful and agreeable ; 
more interested in the young than in people of his 
3 * 


30 


ARTIFICE OUTWITTED. 


own age. He was very penetrating, and, when 
occasion offered, sarcastic. 

‘‘Deacon,” said a smiling dame, “why did you 
not speak of that charming young lady? I didn’t 
know that the count had any children.” 

“ She is nothing but a child,” said the deacon, 
carelessly. 

“We used to be very intimate with the Le 
Gendres, but since the death of the old folks we 
have lost sight of the others. The count has 
spent nearly sixteen years in foreign parts, I am 
told. We believe he means to dazzle us now. 
What became of his brother 7 How much prop- 
erty did he inherit ? ” 

“More than three millions. He will never 
marry again, and this child will be the richest in 
Paris,” replied Mr. Day, coolly. 

The lady pretended not to notice these words, 
but continued : “ The brother who died was very 
different from this gentleman ; he was so simple 
that we sometimes thought him a fool.” 

“Not so much of a fool as many people with 
whom I am acquainted,” retorted the deacon ; 
“but he had no fondness for society, and when by 


CONCEALED DISAPPOINTMENT. 


31 


chance he was thrown into company, he appeared 
more foolish than he really was.” 

“Why, deacon,” interrupted the lady, “who 
is that tall gentleman, who sits beside Mile. Le 
Gendre 7 See how serious both look. I should 
think he was a minister, and she about being con- 
verted.” 

“That, madame,” replied he, “is the son of 
an American planter ; his name is De Lacy. If 
he is not a minister, he is a good preacher ; and I 
am not sure but his sermons might be more useful 
to us than to the child with whom he is speak- 
ing.” 

“ Is that De Lacy 7 I have long wished to see 
him. My son says he is rich ; but no one could 
judge so from his simple style of living. When 
he pleases he is very fascinating ; but the young 
ladies make no impression on him. I declare that 
is the cold, puritanical bachelor ! ” 

“You have said enough,” said the deacon, with 
an ironical smile; “you have drawn a fine por- 
trait of that good man.” 

When De Lacy left Esther, the deacon ap- 


32 


TRUE DISCERNMENT. 


preached, and placing his arm familiarly in that 
of the young man, led him to an open window. 

“ My young friend, how have you been enter- 
tained ? ” inquired he. 

“ 0, highly ! Since I left home,” replied he, 
“I have not seen a person who pleased me so 
much. There is no art, no coquetry about her ; 
she seems an embodiment of truthfulness ; and 
glad am I to say that all this pomp and luxury 
of her father’s establishment has little or no effect 
on her. She is better pleased with a rose-bud, 
than a jewelled ring.” 

“You seem quite fascinated, and I think your 
judgment good ; but it is not best to be hasty. I 
hope you will have an opportunity of seeing her 
often. Situated as she is, you may be very useful 
to her. Her father, though a good man, has little 
of that spirit which could cheer him on to the end 
of his journey. He is at times moodish and de- 
sponding. All his immense wealth avails nothing, 
if the heart is not right,” said the deacon, seri- 
ously. 

The heart of He Lacy beat violently ; he felt 
a peculiar interest in that young girl, and in her 


AN AGREEABLE SURPRISE. 


33 


father. He had seen her, as- she sat leaning 
against the window, before the arrival of the com- 
pany. It was he who walked in the garden ; he 
heard her sigh, and saw her weep, and he was 
affected by it. During their conversation, he had 
asked her why she wept, and she had told him 
with all the simplicity of an honest heart. 

The deacon tapped 'the young man on the 
shoulder, pointing to a lady who ' approached 
them. 

Sarah ! She here, too ! It seems as if she 
were a shadow about me ! Why does she follow 
me?” said De Lacy. 

‘‘Remember, she is your cousin, and wishes to 
favor you with her presence ; — “ perhaps ’t is all 
kindness on her part,” said the elder gentleman. 

The woman to whom he pointed slowly ad- 
vanced, leaning upon the arm of a young man. 
She was very beautiful, but her beauty was lan- 
guishing and faded. 

“Cousin,” said she to De Lacy, “what an 
agreeable surprise ! I thought you never went 
into such gay company. You did not tell me that 
you were coming.” 

C 


84 


THE ENCOUNTER. 


*‘Is that SO surprising 7 You did not tell 
me that you were invited,” coldly replied De 
Lacy. 

0, no ! I came here by chance, merely. I 
thought my evening was engaged,” continued the 
lady, with an accent which betrayed a secret 
reproach. Lowering her voice, she added, “ Did 
you receive my letter 7 ” 

He made a sign in the affirmative. 

‘‘ Then you did not expect to find me here this 
evening,” Tetorted she. “ I came in just as you 
were sitting by Mile. Le Gendre. I must ac- 
knowledge that I was astonished to see you so 
much occupied with the frivolous French child. 
‘T is damp here ; let us enter.” 

“I hope you will enjoy yourself, madame,” 
said De Lacy, bowing and turning from her. “It 
is time for us to go, my friend,” said he to the 
deacon ; and they took their leave. 

By and by, all the company retired slowly, 
and without noise, as the wave W’hich abandons 
the shore. 

Mrs. Abel and Esther were thankful to know 
that all were gone; and the latter, too tired 


THE KETIREMENT. 


35 


and confused to perform her evening devotion, 
closed her eyes, after a hasty acknowledgment 
of God’s bounty. In her sleep, she thought 
of one whose voice was sweet to her ear, and 
she dreamed of a home in far-off America. 


CHAPTER Hi. 


NEW PLANS. 

I 

At breakfast, the next morning, Esther was 
quiet and thoughtful ; she felt that she had some- 
thing more to do in the world, than be dressed 
and receive company. The manners of some 
of the guests, the evening before, had led her^ 
into a train of reflection, in which she had 
long indulged before being summoned to break- 
fast. She met her father, fearfully, so to say, for 
there was a forbidding coolness in his bearing, 
though his lips breathed only tenderness. She 
looked upon the rich and showy furniture, the 
massive silver, and exquisitely painted china, and 
sighed ; for, though she admired their beauty, she 
felt that they brought in their train, domestics, 
style, fashion, all that tends to make a family 
cold and unsocial within itself, and she began to 
wish that her father was not so rich. 


THE PERPLEXITY. 


37 


“ Well; Esther,” said her father, ‘‘ what shall 
we do to amuse you to-day ? ” 

‘‘Whatever you please, father,” replied she. 

“My pleasure is to make you happy! ” con- 
tinued he. “And I should think a person of 
your age would form some schemes of sport. 
Will you — ” Here he was interrupted by the 
announcement of his friend, Mr. Day. 

“ You have come just in time to decide an 
important question for us,” said the count. 
“ I was wishing to find something to make the 
day pass agreeably with Esther. She seems 
rather serious this morning. We must do some- 
thing to cheer her up.” 

“ I did not know that I was serious,” inter- 
rupted Esther. “ I was thinking whether it were 
necessary to live just as we do.” Then, catching 
the eye of Mrs. Abel, she added, “ It is so differ- 
ent from what I have been used to. I’m sure 
papa is very kind, and I thank him with all my 
heart.” 

“I presume last evening’s party was hardly 
what you wish, my dear,” said Mr. Day. “Yet, 
the company are highly gratified with your splen- 
4 


38 


THE ELECTION. 


did entertainment ; and, no doubt, M. Le Gendre, 
you will have plenty of callers,” said he, siginfi- 
cantly, to her father. 

‘‘ We will set apart one day in the week for 
reception; what say you to that, my good 
child?” 

“Certainly; I shall be happy to see some of 
the company.” 

“ Then you have a preference? ” 

“ 0, yes ! I saw two or three ladies with 
whom I should like to be acquainted, and one 
gentleman; the others talked so much, and so 
silly, that I could not bear them. I do like sim- 
ple, natural people ! ” 

“ Did you find any with whose simplicity you 
were suited ? ” asked Mr. Day, carelessly. 

“0, yes ! There was one, I don’t know his 
name, but he is your friend.” 

“ My friend ! How did you know that ? ” 

“ I understood it by your manner of taking 
him into the garden. Don’t you remember, 
speaking to a gentleman who stood near you ? ” 

“ I have spoken to so many ! Was he not 
middle-aged, and of common appearance ? ” 


AGREEABLE INTERVIEW. 


89 


“ Not at all,” said Esther, with vivacity. “ He 
was the most elegant man in the room ! ” 

“Now I remember,” said the deacon. “It 
was De Lacy, that young American, and a fine 
man he is, too. I have long known him, and 
shall be glad to have him make your father’s 
acquaintance. He belongs to a rich family. He 
came to Europe for his health, and is now so 
deeply engaged in study and philanthropic pur- 
suits, that he purposes to remain some time longer. 
I have never met a sounder yOuth. I suppose he 
said many learned things to you.” 

“Happily not,” replied Esther; “for, if he 
had, I should not have been able to answer. On 
the contrary, he talked to me in the simplest 
manner, just like my good minister in the coun- 
try, and I found words to answer him, which did 
not happen with any one else.” 

Just then, a domestic, who chanced to be in 
the room, turned and looked her in the face. Her 
father smiled ; and ' his friend was evidently 



“ I have again spoken like a child ; have I 


40 


THE KEVIEW. 


not?” said Esther, looking confusedly at her 
father. 

‘‘ You should be careful how you speak, in 
presence of strangers,” replied he; “but before 
your father and our good friend you need feel 
under no restraint ; speak openly, speak frankly. 
Tell us whom else you noticed last evening.” 

“ Some very queer ladies. There was one, a 
lady from Washington, — that, I believe, is in 
America ; she was almost too fleshy to move about, 
and wore such a quantity of ornaments, I could 
think of nothing but a story I once read, of an 
old lady, who used to put all the goods she had 
on her own back, to show them ofij for sale. This 
lady came to me, and began to speak very bad 
French. I could not understand her, and then 
she brought a young man, her son, who seemed to 
have given the tailor and barber much trouble to 
try to make a man of him. You should have seen 
him how and scrape. I could not help laughing, 
and, if it had not been for Mrs. Abel, I think I 
must have treated him rudely, I was so annoyed 
by his compliments. Then there was a very stiff 
lady ; she seemed afraid to move. And another 


SELF-RELIANCE. 


41 


lady looked so, I don’t know how, at me, that I 
could not help shuddering.” 

‘‘Was she a handsome woman, pale and 
sickly ? ” interrupted Mr. Day. 

“ Yes,” said Esther. 

“ She is Sarah de Lacy, cousin of my friend,” 
continued he. “ An unfortunate woman, with 
much pride and ambition, and none of the Chris- 
tian virtues which render woman lovely. But 
time is spending; if you will go with me, this 
morning, I think I can put you in the way of 
making yourself useful and happy.” 

“ Thank you ; if papa is willing, I shall be 
most happy to go,” said Esther, in a lively tone. 

“ I will ring for the carriage,” responded M. 
Le Gendre; “and Mrs. Abel will accompany 
you.” 

“ Never mind a carriage, my friend; our limbs 
are better to us than horses,” said the deacon, 
smiling. 

'“You, certainly, will not take Esther to any 
public place on foot — ” 

“ Papa, please let us walk to-day. I should 
like it so much ! ” exclaimed Esther. 

4 * 


42 


CHILDISH SOLICITUDE. 


“Have your own way, child,” responded the 
count, and left the room. 

“ I hope I have not made papa angry ! I will 
run after him,” and she opened his chamber door, 
gently. He was standing with his back against 
the wall, and his head sunk upon his bosom. 
“Father ! ” said a sweet voice. He looked up ; 
moved towards her ; stepped back ; beckoned her 
to be gone, and closed the door after her. 

She ran to her ovm chamber, where, meeting 
Mrs. Abel, she threw her arms about her neck, 
and exclaimed, “ How shall I ever know how to 
please papa ! ” 

Upon inquiry, she related all that had happened 
in the breakfast room, since Mrs. Abel left, and 
would have given way to a flood of tears, had not 
that good woman approved of all she had said and 
done. Then, preparing themselves to go with the 
deacon, they went to meet him. 

With a smiling and cheerful expression, he 
said, “ I hope, ladies, that we may all learn some 
good lessons, to-day, and promote not only our 
own happiness, but that of others. I wish to have 


THE ASSYLUM. 


43 


you make some calls, and not upon people who 
ride in their carriages.” 

After walking a few minutes, they turned into 
a side street, and, stopping at the door of a neat- 
looking house, Mr. Day took a key from his pocket, 
and ushered them in. A tall, genteel-looking 
woman, of about thirty-five, conducted them into 
a large and comfortable parlor. Mr. Day intro- 
duced the ladies as friends of the establishment, 
saying, “ They would like to see the inmates.” 
She led the way up stairs, and, opening the door 
of a large chamber, addressed herself to a 
sprightly old lady, who bustled round to get 
some chairs, and began to talk with great vivacity. 
“ Lord bless you, Mrs. Gray ! Who is that beau- 
tiful young creetur’ that you’re bringing here? 
She looks just like a friend I had when I was 
young. You came across the water, did n’t you, 
dear ? 0 ! 0 ! I see ; you ’re born to trouble ; but 
you have the true heart ; you ’ll outlive many sor- 
rows, and, if you’re always good — you know 
what I mean by that — you ’ll be happy ! ” 

“ How you talk. Aunt Nannie ! What will the 


44 


AUNT ANNIE. 


ladies think of you ? ” said a prim old lady, who 
was knitting, with all her might. 

Esther looked around. There were some five or 
six old ladies, busily employed. All looked con- 
tented hut one, who, moping in a corner of the 
room, appeared unconscious of the presence of 
visitors. Mrs. Abel went to her, and kindly in- 
quired after her health. 

“Well enough,” was the cool and crispy answer. 

“ Can I do anything for you ? ” continued Mrs. 
Abel. 

“No, don’t want nothing of nobody; only let 
me alone.” 

Meanwhile, Aunt Annie had completely mo- 
nopolized the attention of Esther. She was show- 
ing her a large basket of colored rags, from which 
she contrived to make sundry black cats, with 
yellow eyes and red lips, and little braided mats ; 
the ingenuity of which, pleased Esther very much. 
She was on the point of pulling out her purse to 
purchase, when a look from Mrs. Gray, informed 
her that it was injudicious. 

“ The lady would like one of your mats,” said 
Mrs. G. 


THE RESTRAINED HEART. 


45 


‘‘ Bless her heart ! I’m proud to give her the 
handsomest I have. Pray, choose, miss.” 

Miss Esther took a braided mat, with a stiff 
black cat in the centre, and thanked the old lady 
heartily. 

Taking leave of these old ladies, they followed 
Mrs. Gray through several apartments, nicely 
furnished with white window-curtains and coun- 
terpanes, and such furniture as the necessity and 
convenience of old people require. Some rooms 
contained two, some three, persons, and in the 
upper story were small rooms for single individ- 
uals. All appeared satisfied, and all were occu- 
pied — some few in reading and writing. One had 
saved a quantity of newspaper scraps and poetry ; 
she expressed a great desire to have it printed ; 
said, ^^if she could raise one hundred francs to 
print a book, she should die happy.” Esther 
would gladly have given them to her, but pru- 
dence restrained her. Poor Esther ! little did she 
then realize the worth of a hundred francs. 

Passing by a small room, the door of which 
stood ajar, they heard a male voice in prayer. 
Esther’s quick ear caught a familiar tone, but she >■ 


46 


NEW ATTACHMENT. 


was not quite sure ; her heart beat quicker as she 
passed on. 

The last old lady was entirely alone. Everything 
about her bore the air of former gentility. When 
they entered she was contemplating the miniature 
of a young man. She received them very courte- 
ously, and, in the course of conversation, expressed 
a wish that some one would read the Bible and 
other good books to her ; said that she had read 
so much as to impair her sight, and the spiritual 
food she received from books was more necessary 
to her comfort, now that her days were numbered, 
and she was soon to be in the spirit-land. 

Just then, Mr. Day made his appearance at 
the door, and the good old lady welcomed him 
most cordially. After a few minutes’ conversa- 
tion, he opened the Bible, and read a portion in 
the Psalms. The old lady commenced singing a 
hymn, in which Mrs. Abel and Mr. Day joined. 
Esther was forcibly struck by the devotion of this 
person, and conceived a strong attachment for her, 
and desire to know her history. Taking their 
leave, they prepared to depart. Mrs. Gray apolo- 
gized to Esther for the movement she had made 


THE RESCUE. 


47 


regarding the mat, saying, “It would have dis- 
turbed Aunt Annie much, as she thinks herself 
too well off to work for money.” 

Promising to come again soon, they left the 
house. 

They were within a few steps of M. Le Gen- 
dre’s, when a cry of “ Help ! help ! Murder ! ” 
made Esther spring upon her feet. Mrs. Abel 
involuntarily shrieked, as a wretched girl, with 
streaming hair and tattered garments, threw her- 
self into the deacon’s arms, exclaiming, “ 0, save 
me ! save me ! ” He had just thrust her into the 
door, when a ruffian dashed past him, muttering 
to himself, and swinging a huge club, with occa- 
sional oaths. 


CHAPTER IV. 


A THRILLING SCENE. 

When M. De Lacy arrived at his lodgings after 
the party, he found a little boy who had been 
waiting some time for him. 

‘‘If you please, sir,” said the child, “mother 
wishes you would come to her as soon as you can. 
She thinks little sissy is dying.” 

‘5 And who is your mother, my dear ? ” 

“0, I don’t know, sir! My dear little sis! 
what shall I do if she dies 7 ” ^ 

“ Has she been sick long 7 ” 

“ About a week, sir.” 

“ And how did you know anything about 
me 7 ” 

“ Sissy has said so much about M. De Lacy, 
and we don’t know no othev gentleman of that 
name. She says the angels are beckoning to her, 
and father is calling her, but she is not willing to 
go till you have prayed with her again.” 


THE DYING CHILD. 


49 


“I have prayed with her ! '^ho can it bel’^ 
thought he. 

’T was late, but he hesitated not to follow the 
child, who led him through many narrow streets, 
and finally into a court and up six flights of 
stairs. As they mounted the last steps, they 
heard a wailing cry, as of some one in distress. 

“ Poor grandmother ! ” said the boy ; and, hur- 
rying forward, he cried out, ^‘Mother, he ’s here ! 
he ’s come ! open the door ! ” 

And the door was opened by a shadow of a 
woman, holding in her arms an infant. 

‘^Is this M. De Lacy?” said she. “God be 
praised that you have come in time to close the 
eyes of my darling ! ” 

Another wail caused him to turn his head. An 
old woman, apparently a great sufferer, was lying 
on a heap of rags in a corner. The boy ran up 
to her, and tried to soothe her. “ Dear grand- 
mother, the good gentleman has come. Shall I 
hold your head that you may see him ? ” 

“ This way, sir,” said the anxious mother, fear- 
ing the breath of her child would be gone. 

De Lacy approached, not a bed, but a board 

5 » 


50 


POWER OF PRAYER. 


extended across two barrels, and covered with 
rags. On it lay a sweet child, of about eight 
years. There was a heavenly expression on her 
countenance, as she extended her little, wasted 
hand to him, saying, “How kind you are to come! 
I did so wish to see you before I died ! I hope 
you will take care of — ’’ Here her voice faltered, 
and she lay perfectly still. 

“ 0, she is going ! ” said her mother. 

Presently the lips of the little one moved, but 
no sound could be heard. 

“ She wants you to pray, and grandmother 
wants you to pray,” said the boy, eagerly. 

And he did pray such a prayer as angels might 
have listened to. Reader, have you felt consoled 
by prayer? Do you know its soothing influence? 
If not, pray ; pray with your whole soul ; pray as 
did this good man, believing that a gracious God 
will lend a willing ear, and you, too, shall rejoice 
at the last hour, when the lamp of life is feebly 
flickering. 

The child roused up as from a pleasant dream. 
“0, I am so happy ! ” said she. “ Mother, you 
will never cry again because you have no bread 


DEATH IN POVERTY. 


51 


for us ; and bubby will be so good, and love the 
kind gentleman. Grandmother is going with me, 
and we shall leave you to be happy. Dear M. 
Lacy, I am so thankful ! Yes, I come ! ” and 
she lay her little head upon his arm, and quietly 
yielded up her spirit to God who gave it. 

M. De Lacy desired the mother to lie down 
with her infant, and take a little rest; — but 
where was she to lie ? There was no bed ; so she 
sat in her chair, and, hushing her infant as she 
pressed it to her bosom, left him to take care of 
her dead. The boy could not be persuaded to 
leave his grandmother, and there he sat by her 
side, till her groans were lost in a heavy sleep ; 
then, rolling upon the floor, nature took her due, 
and he too slept. 

When all was still, De Lacy took the dim lamp 
to get a nearer view of the dead child. He 
thought he had never seen anything so beautiful 
as that cold face. He had closed her eyes and 
stretched her little limbs. There was no nice, 
white robe to put on her, or white flowers to place 
in her little hands ; but she was beautiful as a 


52 


WORK FOR THE GOOD. 


cherub. He thought and thought, but could not 
tell where he had seen her. 

Everything in the room indicated the most ab- 
ject poverty. His first impulse was to go out 
and bring in something to refresh those famishing 
bodies ; but a second thought was, to let the 
sleepers sleep, and take care for them in the 
morning. 

We will leave him to provide a new home for 
the mother and children, — to place the grand- 
mother among her aged sisters, where nurses and 
good attendance will be provided for her, — and 
go into the kitchen of M. Le Gendre. 


CHAPTER V. 


A KITCHEN SCENE. 

“I fioPE you don’t think, M. Pierre, to dictate 
to me,” said Elise, the lady of the kitchen. 
‘‘ I ’ve always had my own way in every good 
Catholic family where I lived. It ’s none of your 
business what I give away.” 

I think it ’s our business to take care of the 
property that ’s entrusted to us ; and, I say again, 
you have no right to give away all the food that ’s 
left at every meal. If either of the ladies were 
to look after things, it would n’t be so,” replied 
Pierre. 

“ So you ’ll tattle, will you?” cried Jeannette, 
growing angry. 

At this moment, Mrs. Abel and Esther opened 
the door. 

“ Upon my word, ladies,” said Jeannette, try- 
ing to cover up sundry bundles and packages 
which lay on the table ; “ I did n’t expect to see 
5 * 


54 


FAITHLESS SERVANTS. 


the ladies in the kitchen, or I would have hafl all 
in order. ’T is very pleasant in our eating-room. 
Would n’t you like to see some bouquets that were 
sent me last evening ? — there they are.” 

‘‘Presently,” coolly replied Mrs. Abel, who 
was looking at the bundles. “ What are in those 
packages ? ” 

“Some things of mine, if you please,” returned 
she, coloring. 

“But I will take them out of our best nap- 
kins,” continued Mrs. Abel, deliberately untying 
one, from which rolled out sundry bottles of wine. 
To the astonishment of Esther, she opened them 
all. 

“ Why did you say these things were yours 7 ” 
asked Mrs. Abel. 

“Well, whatever comes from the table is mine,” 
stammered the girl. 

“ Do not add falsehood to theft, you wicked 
girl ! ” said Mrs. Abel. Then turning to Esther, 
who stood in mute astonishment, she asked wheth- 
er it were best to dismiss Jeannette at once, so 
that her influence might not be exerted over the 


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KIND FORBEARANCE. 


55 


other domestics, or to give her an opportunity to 
reform. 

Jeannette looked imploringly at Pierre, who 
stepped forward, and, bowing respectfully, begged 
them to give his fellow-servant a trial of at least a 
week. 

Esther advised the same ; and, thinking to favor 
the girl, said she would like to see the other room 
and the bouquets of which she spoke. Judge of 
her astonishment to see her own bouquet which 
she had passed to one of the ladies the evening of 
the party, with sundry flowers cut from her own 
pet bushes ! 

“How came you with my bouquet?” asked 
she, quite excited. 

“ ’T was picked up in the entry, I assure you, 
mademoiselle,” was all the reply; and Jeannette 
burst into tears. 

“ Unfortunate child ! ” said Mrs. Abel, com- 
passionately, “thank God that we have discov- 
ered your wickedness before you are entirely 
lost!” and she and Esther withdrew. 

“ We must try to find some employment for 
the new comer, that will keep her out of the 


56 


NEW COMER. 


kitchen,” said Mrs. Abel; ‘‘and we shall have 
more than enough to do to look after so many 
servants. I wish your father would dismiss half 
of them ; they are only in each other’s way. But 
you would do well to advise with Mr. Day, before , 
saying anything about it. We must not annoy 
with our plans.” 

Pierre was easily persuaded to keep this inter- 
view of Jeannette and her new mistress a secret, 
upon condition that she would never do the like 
again. 

Hardly had they arranged matters satisfacto- 
rily, when the door flew open, and in ran Louise, 
the dressing-maid, followed by Christophe, the 
cook, laughing in a suppressed manner. As soon 
as the door was closed, they gave vent to their 
mirth, which attracted the attention of the other 
servants, who huddled round to know the cause. 

“You would have died laughing,” cried Louise, 
“to see the funny-looking girl I have had to 
dress, and the scolding I got from Marm Abel for 
laughing at her. Would you believe, she said 
she did n’t know what to do with the hair-brush ! 

I asked her where she came from, and she said 


KITCHEN JABBER. 


5T 


she did n’t know. She don’t seem to know any- 
thing. And, to cap all, she is to be Mrs. Abel’s 
maid. Well, I ’m rejoiced to get her off my 
hands ; and now, if I don’t make Miss Esther pony 
over some of her father’s cash, I ’m mistaken.” 
Here she seized Christophe, and they whirled two 
or three times round the room. 

' “You should have heard Miss Esther herself 
this morning, if you ’d like to hear a simpleton,” 
ejaculated Charlie. “Why, upon my word, she 
told her father, right before the deacon and I, that 
she was in love with that long-faced American, 
the one I told you about at breakffist, — who 
talked so saucy to a fine lady in the garden. I 
saw her brush the tears from her eyes, and if I 
had n’t been a servant, I ’d sent him a challenge 
and made him sweat for it.” 

“ Stop your bragging,” cried Christophe, “and 
tell us what was the end of the story.” 

“ ’Pon honor, she said she was in love with 
him. I could n’t help- just turning the corner of 
my eye round, to see if she blushed ; and I s’pose 
she saw it, for she looked at her father, and he 
told her to be very careful how she spoke before 


58 


KITCHEN REPORTERS. 


any of the other servants. ‘ You never need mind 
Charlie,’ said he ; ‘you may trust in him as you 
would in the deacon. He never tells what he 
hears ; and he ’s as truthful as the sun.’ Halloo, 
what do you think of that, boys and girls?” 

“He don’t know you — don’t know you. Go 
on with your story,” exclaimed half a dozen voices 
at once. 

“Well, as I was saying,” continued Charlie, 
“the deacon offered to take her to see the — the 

— what did he call him? — 0, the preacher ; and 
her father said Mrs. Abel must go too. And I 
believe he was horrid mad, for he ran right up 
stairs, — I stood behind the door to watch the play, 

— and Miss Esther ran after him. I thought he 
put her out of the room ; but all that did n’t pre- 
vent her going ; and they have brought home a 
rare specimen, I tell you. I motion that we take 
a vote not to have her in the kitchen.” 

“You need n’t trouble yourself,” said Pierre; 
“ I think the ladies mean to keep her away 
from us.” 

“Huzza, huzza!” cried Christophe ; “to-night 
we ’ll have our party, and a glorious one, too, if 


A GOOD TIME BROKEN UP. 


59 


you ’ll all do your duty. Now I ’ll tell what it 
is, our master is rich enough to make us all rich ; 
but as he won’t he likely to do that, I say let ’s at 
least have a good time at his expense. If we are 
careful, they ’ll never find it out. And as to the 
money I spend, — M. Le Gendre knows nothing 
about the price of things, — I can tell him I give 
more than I do, and all will be right. Now, if 
either of you brings us out, woe be to him ! ” 

“ Come, Alistress Jeannette, hand over your 
keys ; we must crack a few bottles of wine to 
begin with,” cried Charlie. 

“ That she shall not ! ” cried Pierre. 

‘‘ I should like to know where you got your 
authority ! I ’ll let you know that I ’m master 
down stairs,” said Christophe, doubling his large, 
red fist. 

‘‘ Hands off !'” cried the women ; don’t make 
a noise, — hush ! hush ! ” 

The bell rang, and Charlie and Louise both 
ran. No sooner had they left, and silence was 
restored, than Pierre called their attention to a 
few words he wished to say. 

“Let’s know whether you’re Protestant or 


60 


MAXIM AND STOKY. 


Catholic, before you begin,” cried Christophe, 
sneeringly. 

“ Well, you be quiet, Christophe, and let some 
one say something beside yourself,” said Jean- 
nette, seriously. 

“At your service, madame,” replied he, put- 
ting his finger upon his lips. 

“I will not tax your patience further than to 
give you a maxim, or tell you a story,” said 
Pierre ; “ which will you have ? ” 

“Maxim short, and story long; maxim good 
for nothing, story good for something,”' said 
Christophe. “I like short, and I like good, — 
take both.” 

“The maxim is, that ‘Honesty is the best 
policy.’ ” 

“ Old as your grandfather Methuselah,” mut- 
tered Marie, who had hoped to hear something 
new. “Now for the story; and make it short, 
for my work is waiting for me.” 

“A very rich gentleman,” said he, “was in a 
small out-house, one cold night, very late, when 
he heard the crackling of the ice, and a light 
footstep. He looked through a small window. 


STEALING FROM HERETICS. 


61 


and saw a woman, whom he recognized in the 
moonshine to be a poor neighbor. She ap- 
proached his wood-pile and took thence a stick, 
then replaced it. She looked up, and shuddered. 
He stood breathless. Again she took the stick, — 
again she put it back, sajing, ‘ 0 God ! must I, 
can I steal 7 0, my poor, freezing children ! ’ 

and, wringing her hands, she turned away. Lit- 
tle did she think that any eye saw, or ear heard 
her, hut God’s.” 

What ’s the end of the story 7 ” interrupted 
Christophe. 

“Why, that the gentleman took care of and 
supported her and her family the rest of their 
lives,” said Pierre. “ Now I ’m determined to 
be honest, and if I can’t make the rest of you so, 
I ’ll leave the house.” 

“ Good-by,” retorted Christophe ; and after 
Pierre had left the kitchen, he said to Jeannette, 
“ ’T won’t do to have our jollification to-night. 
I ’m sorry I told my plans so freely, — I’m afraid 
of that fellow. Is he a Protestant 7 All the folks 
up stairs are ; and I assure you there ’s no sin in 
getting all we can out of the heretics. If they 
6 


62 


CHRISTO PHB’S history. 


belonged to the true church, as we do, ’t would be 
quite another story. I ’ll take money to church 
every Sunday, and save my soul.” 

In about a quarter of an hour, he went out, 
saying that he was going to see his father, and 
should not return till late at night. 

Poor Christophe ! he had never known what it 
was to have a kind father and a good home. 
One of twelve children of poor parents, he was 
early thrust from the paternal roof, to seek his 
fortune. After wandering about from place to 
place, and doing jobs for one and another, he 
found a distant relation of his mother’s, who 
offered to give him a home. This man was a 
barber, and a bigoted Catholic. He obliged 
Christophe to attend to all the forms of the 
church, little heeding the culture of his heart. 
He taught him his trade, but no morality. He 
fed his body to excess, and starved his mind. 
After a time, Christophe, growing tired of this, 
connected himself with a band of strolling players, 
and, supplying himself from his uncle’s money- 
drawer, ran away. In the capacity of player, it 
was necessary for him to learn to read ; which he 


christophe’s history. 


63 


did with great facility. Here he would have done 
well, so far as making money is well, had he not 
been too presuming. In less than a year he quar- 
relled with some of his companions, who, uniting, 
gave him a sound drubbing, took all his money, 
and left him to look out for himself. 

The situation of waiter in a restaurator in 
Paris presented itself, and Christoplie flourished 
for a time in this capacity. Here his appetite led 
him to look into the mysteries of the culinary art, 
and, in process of time, he was able to take the 
place of cook when circumstances required. Here 
also he became acquainted Avith Louise, a maid in 
the establishment, and, under promise of marriage, 
he induced her to give herself up to and go with 
him. 

The name and wealth of M. Le Gendre bore a 
prospect of making an easy fortune, or at least 
leading a joyous life to both, and they were glad 
enough to enter into his service. 

Louise, as usual, sat up for him that night. 
He returned late, — was intoxicated and abusive ; 
and she went to bed with sad thoughts and gloomy 
forebodings. Sleep relieved and fancy amused 


64 


A DREAM. 


her. She thought she had broken off all connec- 
tion with her former lover, and was the wife of a 

/ 

pious young man; that he showed her a neat 
little cottage, garden, fruit-trees and vines, and 
told her that these were for her. Everything 
looked smiling and bright around the place, and 
she longed to take up her abode there, but a 
strange something held her back. Struggling to 
be free, she awoke, long after her mistress was up 
and dressed. 


CHAPTER VI. 


DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 

‘‘ My dear Esther ! Why do yon sit up so 
late'? ” said Mra. Abel, as she glanced into the 
young lady’s chamber at midnight. 

“0, I am so happy ! ” replied Esther. ‘‘ Too 
happy to sleep ! Nor did I think it was very 
late. Since you left the parlor, I have read to 
father, and he has talked to me. He was as kind 
as any one could be ; and, I hope, I believe, he 
felt happy. He called me his darling, and kissed 
me, over and over again. If I can make him 
happy, what more shall I desire ? I wish you 
could see how beautiful he is when his face is 
lighted up by a pleasant smile ! I told him that 
this evening, spent with him, was a thousand times 
more agreeable to me than society. He seemed 
pleased, and promised to give me an account of 
his travels ; says he has been all over the world, 
and seen and suffered much. I have been so 
6* E 


66 


A FAITHFUL HOUSEKEEPER. 


taken up with him, that I forgot the old ladies, 
and everything, until I came into the chamber 
and saw this funny-looking mat. 0, I have lived 
long to-day ! Do sit down, and talk with me ! I 
have so many, many things to ask you ! ” 

.“’Twere better to go to bed now, my dear. 
It is bad for your health to be up so late several 
nights in succession,” said Mrs. Abel. 

Esther warmly embraced her, and, wdth a heart 
overflowing with gratitude, soon retirfed. Mrs. 
Abel saw -the necessity of a well-ordered house- 
hold. She felt that she was responsible, in a 
measure, for the welfare of that company of 
domestics under her ; that their end and aim 
would be to get all they could from the rich man, 
who had commenced housekeeping on a very ex- 
travagant scale, and thrown them into temptation. 
She was very suspicious of Christophe, from some 
conversation she had overheard; and when she 
found Louise neglect her duties, to remain in the 
kitchen, she resolved to sit up, and try to find out 
what was going on. She heard the drunken voice 
of the brute, and the sobs and tears of the un- 


LITTLE KATE. 


6T 


happy Louise. But she thought best to wait for 
the morrow. 

Hoav apt we are to look forward for a to-mor- 
row that shall carry out some favorite scheme, 
or complete a task for us; without reflecting 
that to-morrow will bring us new duties, which 
will require all our energies, and new tasks, 
which, seen from a human point of view, appear 
too mighty for our little strength ! 

Kate was, as Charlie said, a rare specimen. 
She slept till after all had done breakfast, then 
bounded out of bed, and down stairs, in her night- 
dress, running from one room to another, and 
opening eve;*y door in her way. It was with some 
difficulty that Mrs. Abel could get her to dress 
herself in a proper manner. Then, wishing to 
make some arrangements, with Esther, she desired 
Marie to attend to Kate’s breakfast. Accord- 
ingly, she brought coffee, rolls, and toast, and, 
placing them on the table, went about her work in 
another apartment. 

Presently a scream, as of one in distress, at- 
tracted several members of the family to Kate’s 


68 


A CATASTROPHE. 


room. A con\mlsive laugh from Charlie was 
followed bj a roar from the whole party. Even 
the gravity of Mrs. Abel herself was not equal to 
the occasion. There was Kate^ in the middle of 
the floor, jumping up and down, with arms flying, 
like a dancing-jack ; her mouth stretched to its 
utmost width, and streams of cofiee flowing from 
thence to the bottom of her clean frock ; the cof- 
fee-pot was lying at her feet, and its hot contents, 
running in every direction, bore the melting 
butter from the overturned table in its course. 
Broken china, sugar, cream, and rolls, were scat- 
tered in every direction, 

‘‘Poor thing! She is terribly burned,” said 
Esther. 

“Good enough for her I ” exclaimed Marie, vexed 
at the sight of so much extra work for her to do. 

“ How could she have done it 7 ” inquired Mrs. 
Abel. 

“I believe, madam,” said Charlie, “that she 
filled her mouth from the coflee-pot, and turned 
over the table as she jumped up.” 

“Run for the doctor, Charlie!” said M. Le 
Gendre, who had just come to the scene of action. 


A CHANGE. 


69 


What in the world is all this ? Whoever saw 
such a sight? The child is sadlj burned.” 

The doctor came, and with much difficulty, and 
by dint of scolding, succeeded in applying the 
necessary remedies. Louise, the gay, thoughtless 
Louise, to the astonishment of all the house, vol- 
unteered to take charge of her. Mrs. Abel 
approved of the proposal. She wished to have 
Louise near her ; to learn more of her character ; 
to break up the connection between her and Chris- 
tophe, if possible; and, by persuasion and kind-^ 
ness, to form habits of industry and order, which 
would, hereafter, essentially contribute to her 
welfare and happiness. 

Dinner-time came, and both Mrs. Abel and 
Esther welcomed the arrival of Mr. Day. They 
could get nothing from Kate, respecting herself. 
To all their questions, excepting that her name 
was Kate, she had invariably answered, ‘‘Don’t 
know.” And, having heard that their friend 
attended courts, etc., they hoped that he might 
have obtained some information of her persecutor. 
But not so. Mr. Day had been called away, to 
assist M. De Lacy in the care of a dying person. 


70 


MISERY OF THE POOR. 


and had almost forgotten Kate. He had been 
among the wicked, wretched and miserable, so 
much, that the sight of a man chasing a girl, with 
a club in his hand, made less impression on his 
mind, than upon that of such persons as his female 
friends. Yet he was all kindness, and when they 
told him how seriously she was burned, he pitied 
her very much. 

“ But what do you think of a girl of her age 
not knowing how to use her cup 7 ” asked Esther. 

‘‘I am not surprised,” replied he. “I have 
been in a small room, where two or three families 
were huddled together, without furniture of any 
kind. I have seen the sick and dying, on a heap 
of rags, in a comer ; and, when I have asked for 
water to cool their parched lips, have had it 
handed me in a broken bottle. No doubt this 
girl is of some of these most abject ones in the 
city ; and, ladies, if you have patience to teach 
and make something of her, you will do more 
good than you can possibly conceive of.” 

“ But will not her parents claim and take her 
from us7 ” asked Mrs. Abel. 

‘‘ I think not,” answered he. These people 


TOO MANY SERVANTS. 


71 


are so poor, that to be freed from a child is a 
matter of rejoicing. And, perhaps, poor Kate has 
no parents living, or that her life was in jeopardy. 
No doubt she will, by and by, give some account 
of herself” 

‘‘Apropos,” said M. Le Gendre, “can you find 
us a good coachman? ” 

“Papa, if you please,” interrupted Esther, 
“ we have too many servants in the house now.” 

“That is laughable,” rejoined her father. 
“ What do you know of housekeeping in so short 
a time ? Have you been into the kitchen yet ? ” 

“0, yes, sir ! ” responded she. “And from 
what I saw there, and have heard from Louise, I 
should think they had not work enough to make 
them industrious. You know, papa,” added she, 
looking affectionately at him, “ that we are not 
to have much company, and that Mrs. Abel and I 
need some employment. I wish to be your 
maid.” 

“Good child,” ejaculated he, “you are too 
thoughtful for one of your years.” Then, turn- 
ing to Mrs. Abel, he asked her, what she thought 
of the number of domestics. 


72 


WORKING FOR THE POOR. 


I think we have, at least, two too many,’’ 
replied she. 

Is it possible, with such an establishment as 
ours?” continued he, with surprise. “Well, de- 
cide who shall go, and I will dismiss them after 
a reasonable time.” 

This was a difficult point to both the ladies. 
The good ones they, of course, wished to retain, 
and they hoped to improve the bad. So they 
could not decide, and Mr. Day advised that they 
should keep them all for the present, and try to 
find sufficient for them to do. “Let the men do 
more of the women’s work, and let the women 
sew.” 

“ For whom shall they sew?” asked Esther. 
“We are all well stocked with clothes.” 

“ And do you suppose that all the people in 
this great city have clothes enough, my daugh- 
ter ? ” asked M. Le' Gendre. 

“0, they shall work for the poor ! ” said 
Esther, her face lighting up with pleasure. “ I 
shall like that much ! ” 

“ Don’t make our house an industrial establish- 


SYSTEM IN WORK. 


73 


ment,” said M. Le Gendre. “ I don’t want poor 
folks round the doors.” 

Thus they conversed, and the remainder of the 
day passed quietly and pleasantly away. That 
night the whole family retired early, and sweet 
sleep and pleasant dreams rejoiced the heart of the 
happy Esther. 

After her morning devotions, she sat down to 
arrange in her mind the business of the day. 
She looked back upon her country life, and re- 
membered how much work Mrs. Porter accom- 
plished in a few short hours, and with how little 
bustle. She remembered, too, that that good 
woman used to say to her, “ Esther, if you expect 
to accomplish much in one day, you must have a 
system. Arrange your work, as far as you can, 
in your chamber ; then be industrious and perse- 
vering, and all will come out right.” 

“Yes,” said she, to herself; “I have much to 
do, and, God helping me, I will do it. I shall do 
everything I can for papa myself; that will bring 
me in contact with Charlie, and perhaps I shall 
have something to do for his good. Then those 
old ladies ; I must go and read to them. I am 
7 


74 


CONFESSION. 


SO happy that I can be useful ! ’T is nice to have 
money enough, too, for all we need, and papa is 
very generous. I must buy something for Aunt 
Nannie ! ” Saying this, she cast her eyes upon 
the stiff black cat on the little mat, whose great 
white eyes seemed to be winking in the bright 
morning sun. Just at this moment, Louise 
entered, and apologized for being tardy again. 

‘‘0, my dear Miss Esther, how happy you 
look ! ” said she, and burst into tears. 

“ Louise, my good girl, I trust you are not 
unhappy on that account,” replied Esther. “ Why 
should I not be happy 7 Have I not every bless- 
ing — kind friends, good health, and all these 
sweet smiling flowers around me? Surely, you 
will thank God, with me, for all his mercies.” 

“ 0, Miss Esther, you are good, and ought to 
be happy ! And I am wicked, and — ” 

“ Are you wicked ? Poor girl, how much I 
pity you ! What can I do to make you good and 
happy, too?” 

Here Louise, deeply affected by the earnest 
tone of Esther’s voice, opened her heart freely ; 
confessed her wicked intention of trying to steal 


SYMPATHY. 


75 


from her, and begged her help in freeing herself 
from the tyranny of Christophe. 

Esther sympathized deeply with the heart- 
stricken girl ; and, as was her usual custom in 
trying cases, had recourse to Him, who makes the 
simple wise. After a few moments’ silence, as if 
struck by a happy thought, she proposed to ask 
Mr. Day to find a place for Christophe out of 
their family, and look after him ; to which Louise 
thankfully acceded. 

Esther’s cheerful and happy face elicited smiles 
even from her sad and stern parent ; and, before 
the reception day came round, she had won the 
hearts of nearly all the domestics. Charlie declared 
that she really knew much more than he thought 
she did, and that she was a first-rate mistress. 


CHAPTER YIl. 


THE ENCHANTMENT OF BENEVOLENCE. 

‘•Why were you not at M. Le Gendre’s yes- 
terday ? ” said Deacon Day to bis friend De 
Lacy. 

“I can hardly tell,” replied the latter, “un- 
less the fear of meeting my cousin prevented 
me.” 

“ What is there about her that you dislike?” 
inquired Mr. Day. “ She is very handsome, 
appears talented, and, as far as I can judge, is 
what the world calls a fine woman.” 

“You should know her w'ell to judge of her 
character. I believe her capable of doing almost 
anything, to answer her own purpose. Unfortu- 
nately for me, — for both of us, I may say, — our 
parents, who are wealthy planters, and whose 
estates join, had determined to unite us ; and my 
father made it his dying request. I could not 
promise to comply, for I never loved her. My 


GENEROSITY REJECTED. 


77 


mother was disappointed, but‘ did not blame me. 
It is true that I came to this country for my 
health ; but not wholly for that. I never dreamed 
that she would follow me ; — indeed, I hoped ab- 
sence would wean her affections. As for myself, 
I resolved to labor for my fellow-creatures, and 
yield a willing sacrifice to the Lord’s service, and 
think I could be happy in my calling if Sarah 
were not a shadow in my path. ’T is a painful 
thing to be so beloved without being able to 
reciprocate.” 

“My dear, young friend,” said the deacon, 
“ you make too serious a matter of it. All you 
have to do is, to tell the lady that you never can 
marry her ; or, if you meet with the right person, 
tell her that.” 

“You are very much mistaken, my good sir,” 
replied De Lacy, mournfully. “ She is passion- 
ate and jealous. God knows my heart ; how much 
I pity her, and how seriously I have talked and 
reasoned with her. I could do anything* for her 
happiness but marry her. I have even offered to 
give up all claim to the estate of our aunt, which 
is to be divided between us, but she will not hear 
7 #: 


78 


A TRUE WOMAN. 


a word of it. If I go to church, to prayer-meet- 
ing, to a friend’s house, invited or uninvited, she 
is sure to be there. I have been so much annoyed 
by her that I have several times determined to 
leave Paris.” 

“That you must not till you have seen Esther 
Le Gendre once more,” said the deacon. 

“ If I see her often I fear I shall be tempted 
to stay. She seemed to realize my idea of a 
woman,’'’ responded De Lacy, with more anima- 
tion. 

“What is your idea of a woman 7 We give 
the term woman to females in general, but you 
seem to make a distinction. Come, enlighten me 
a little,” said the deacon. 

“ By a true woman,” answered the young man, 
“I mean, neither the doll, who is dressed for 
show, and good for nothing else ; nor the heart- 
less, headless indolent, who sits the live-long day 
doing' nothing, like my Cousin Sarah ; nor the 
busy, driving bustler, who carries news from 
house to house ; but I mean — 0, deacon, you 
laugh ! — you know what I mean, — a substantial, 
common-sense person, who has a purpose in life ; 


THE HAPPY DEATH-BED. 


79 


to whom the whole world are brothers and sisters, 

I ' 

and who fears not to do her duty, let it be what it 
may. In short, I mean one who knows the worth 
of her soul and her life.” 

“ Come, will you meet me at M. Le Gendre’s 
to-morrow morning after breakfast 7 ” interrupted 
the deacon. “I shall expect you;” and, with 
one of his peculiar smiles, he turned away. 

‘‘Well, that is odd enough, to cut the conver- 
sation so short,” said De Lacy to himself; and 
directed his steps to the sick old grandmother, 
whom he had left the evening before. When he 
arrived, the matron gave him a hearty welcome, 
saying, 

“You have come in time to receive her blessing 
before she dies. And she is so happy, ’t will do 
you good, as I am sure it will all of us.” 

It was, indeed, a happy scene. The daughter 
and son were kneeling at the bed-side, while the 
old lady, seemingly held communion with the 
blessed messengers who were about to take her 
spirit to its heavenly home. There were no lam- 
entations ; and the few tears that were shed were 
tears of joy that her prayer to depart was so soon 


80 


THE WRETCHED INVALID. 


answered. Her death seemed to have a soothing 
influence on the other old ladies of the establish- 
ment ; even the morose Madam Fievre volunta- 
rily united in prayer with the family, and spoke 
kindly to the boy.. 

A messenger from Sarah informed M. De Lacy 
that she was very ill, and requested to see him. 
Accordingly, he went and found her dangerously 
sick of fever, and more impatient than he had 
ever seen her. She thought the climate uncon- 
genial, and tried to persuade him to travel through 
Italy with her when she was able; which he 
kindly declined to do. When she questioned him 
concerning his duties, and ascertained that he 
considered them with the poor and wretched, she 
became almost angry, and declared herself dis- 
graced by such a relative, and that, instead of 
going to Italy, she would return home. She also 
charged her illness upon his unkind treatment, 
and placed on him the responsibility of whatever 
might happen to her. 

M. De Lacy tried to reason wdth her, but in 
vain; she was incorrigible and almost abusive. 
He pitied her ; and being glad to have her return 


HOUSING FROM A REVERIE. 81 

to America, lie would have assisted her willingly, 
— the more so, as her health was so feeble, — 
but she refused his offer, and he left her deeply 
excited. 

He also passed a sleepless night. The idea of 
being the involuntary cause of suffering to a fel- 
low-creature was painful to his tender heart But 
what could he do ? He examined himself care- 
fully, yet conscience accused him of nothing, and 
he resolved to leave all to the guidance of a kind 
Providence. 

At ten o’clock the next morning he found him- 
self before the door of M. Le Gendre, and was 
deliberating w^hether to ring or not, when a wild 
laugh, and a shower of cold water from a window 
above, roused him from his reverie. At this mo- 
ment Charlie opened the door, and he entered. 
After wiping and brushing, he was ushered into 
the breakfast room, where were M. Le Gendre, 
the deacon, Mrs. Abel and Esther. They ex- 
pressed great pleasure in seeing him, and in a few 
moments he felt as if among dear friends. Mr. 
Day had told him so much about Kate, that he 


F 


82 


THE NONDESCRIPT SERVANT. 


naturally felt indebted to her for the shower, and 
wished to see her. 

Mrs. Abel led the way up stairs, and Kate was 
found before the mirror in Esther’s room, trying 
on a silk dress which she had taken from the 
wardrobe, her long hair hanging over her shoul- 
ders dripping with water. 

“ How came you in this room, with Miss 
Esther’s dress on ? ” said the good woman. 

A loud laugh was the only response. 

‘‘ Do you know me, Kate 7 ” said'De Lacy. 

She nodded in the affirmative. 

Where have you seen me 7 ” asked he. 

And to this and other questions she only gave 
the usual — Don’t know.” 

The deacon was anxious to hear wdiat M. De 
Lacy thought of Kate. 

“ It seems to me that she is either non compos, 
or very cunning ; ’t will be difficult to tell which, 
for some time. I should judge that it would be 
best to try to keep her employed. She must be 
active to go about on those lame feet. Have you 
set about teaching her anything 7 ” said he, turn- 
ing to Esther. 


A NEW SCHEME. 


83 


‘‘We have tried to get her to sew,” replied 
she, “but thus far without success. It seems 
impossible to fix her attention ; and, if we do place 
the needle between her fingers, she almost inva- 
riably sticks it where she ought not. She has 
already spoiled many things for us, besides hurt- 
ing Louise badly.” 

“ Poor Louise ! ” said Mrs. Abel ; “ her pa- 
tience is sadly tried, and she is doing admirably. 
I am very glad that she is in our company so 
much of her time.” 

“And so am I,” said Esther. “I find her 
always kind and pleasant. Perhaps M. Be Lacy 
can put us in the way of teaching Kate something 
that will occupy her attention, and make her less 
troublesome.” 

“It strikes me that music might have a sooth- 
ing influence on her,” rejoined De Lacy. “I 
have often tried it with good success ; and, if you 
like, I will bring a music-box with me the next 
time I come, and we will see how it will affect 
her.” 

“Ko doubt it will seem strange to you that 
Esther has not learned music. Indeed, I begin 


84 


THE GENEROUS PROPOSAL. 


to feel almost sorrj, that I have kept her so se- 
cluded. I find I have lost many years that I 
might have enjoyed with her,” said M. Le Gendre, 
thoughtfully. 

‘‘Never mind, dear father,” exclaimed Esther; 
“ we shall enjoy it all the more, now that we are 
together. And cannot you yourself teach me 
music 7 ” 

“I think not, my child,” answered the father, 
as a shade came over his face, the index of a sad 
thought which troubled him. 

The deacon saw it, and, turning to De Lacy, 
said, in a half-serious manner, “ You are a fine 
pianist, -why not turn teacher 7 ” 

“ I will most thankfully do whatever I can to 
serve your friend,” was the reply. And he arose 
to take his leave. 

“ Come again very soon,” said M. Le Gendre. 
“ I am sure the ladies will be impatient to test 
your music upon Kate. Your stay is much too 
short.” 

After he had retired, the deacon amused the 
company with accounts of De Lacy’s benevolence. 
When he spoke of the old ladies. Esther wished to 


THE PIOUS OLD LADY. 


85 


know more of Aunt Nannie and the one who had 
recently died. 

Mrs. Abel wished to know something of the one 
who desired to be left to herself, and the pious old 
lady whose eyes prevented her reading. 

‘‘I learned from one of her relations,” said Mr. 
Day, “that the old lady, whom you rightly call 
pious, was once a very wicked woman ; and that 
a son-in-law was instrumental in her conversion. 
It appears that she married a widower in com- 
fortable circumstances, — rendered him unhappy, 
and abused his only child ; that a series of mis- 
fortunes made her dependent on this son, who 
proved to be a superior person, and succeeded in 
bringing her to a full sense of her errors. They 
lived very happily together till separated by death. 
To look at his miniature, and talk of his virtues, 
are her most pleasant occupations. I should have 
said that she is in the Home from choice, having 
a sufficiency for her few wants while she lives, 
which cannot be long.” 

“Why,” interrupted Esther; “she looks pretty 
well.”^ 

“A tumor, my dear,” replied he, warns her 

8 


86 


DKEAD OF DEATH REMOVED. 


that her end is approaching ; and, glad am I to 
say, that she looks forward with pleasure to the 
time when she shall be no more in the world.” 

‘‘Is that what you call a Christian spirit?” 
asked M. Le Gendre. 

“ Certainly,” replied Mr. Day. “ She is will- 
ing to live God’s time ; yet, happy to go when 
he calls. She often says she has been thrice 
warned, — by an accident which deprived her of 
a limb ; by the death of her darling ; and by this 
tumor, which, gnawing at her heart-strings, seems 
to say, ‘be ready.’ Had she the health or power 
to be useful to her fellow-creatures, I doubt not 
but that she would pray to be spared a little 
longer.” 

“I do not understand how people can be so 
ready and willing to die, unless under some ex- 
citement,” continued M. Le Gendre. “ I have 
known men offer to do and to be anything, if so 
their life might be spared. And, in a violent 
storm, I have seen the most hardened and aban- 
doned throw themselves on their knees and pray 
such prayers as would make your ears tingle. 
But it w^as the fear of death that moved their 


THE TRUE SECRET. 


87 


strong and stubborn souls, for they always prayed 
for life.’’ 

‘‘ True, my good friend,” said Mr. Day ; but 
these are not our examples. Those who are hap- 
py in the thought of death are usually those who 
look beyond the limits of time. They live not for 
themselves alone, but for others. Their lives are 
earnest, for they have an object in view, and that 
object is the service of their Father in heaven. 
0, M. Le Gendre, could you have seen the strong 
faith of the tender child, whose life had been 
bright as a summer’s day, you, too, would say 
there is a something pleasant in death ! I can 
never forget how my sister called us all around 
her bedside, and bade us farewell, with a face 
lightened up by the hope of glory. ‘ I shall be 
so happy ! ’ said she. ‘ Come soon and meet 
me ! ’ Not a tear was shed at that death-bed. 
And no doubt the angels in heaven rejoiced that 
another member was added to their company. 
God help us all to be like her.” 

The tears coursed down the cheeks of the 
strong man, as he thought of his angel sister. 


88 


MADAME LE FIEVRE. 


and all were silent for a few moments, when he 
continued : 

“ Of Aunt Nannie little is known. It is 
thought, from what she says of herself, that she 
ran away from a bad husband, in some distant 
country, and that distress and poverty have made 
her crazy enough to forget her troubles, and be 
happy where she is. This seems to me a kindness 
of Providence, and I am glad that she is as she is, 
under the circumstances. 

“ Of the woman with whom M. De Lacy was at 
prayer the day you visited the house, the bright 
little boy, who comes for needle-work for his 
mother, wdll tell you ; for she was his grand- 
mother. That poor creature, Madame Le Fievre, 
who is so gruff with every one, was left a widow, 
residing in a country villa, in the midst of ease 
and plenty. She was avaricious. Money-getting 
seemed her end and aim ; her whole study being 
to increase her store of worldly goods. For years 
after her husband’s death, she was not known to 
give the least article to relieve the wants of the 
poor. But a heavy judgment awaited her. She 
had sent away the last domestic, and was ‘alone in 


AVARICE DEFEATED. 


89 


the house. It was a clear summer day, and she 
picked up some sticks as she walked through her 
garden, and kindled a little fire to prepare her 
solitary repast. In a few moments her dwelling 
was enveloped in flames ; and before assistance 
could be rendered she had lost her all. The 
money she had dared to trust in business soon 
failed, and she saw herself reduced to penury. 
For years she has lived on, earning a scanty pit- 
tance, till' ill health has, at length, driven her to 
the house provided for her sisters in poverty. We 
hope that time will soften her disposition, and help 
her discover her true character,” 

“ I must say that I am quite interested in this 
old ladies’ concern,” said M. Le Gendre. ‘‘Is 
there anything provided for old gents ? ” 

“ Nothing particular ; or nothing upon this 
plan, I should say,” replied the deacon. “I 
think our establishment is unique in its kind ; it 
gives the inmates a comfortable and good home, 
while it carefully maintains the individuality of 
each. Talk with them, and you will find each 
feels herself entirely her own mistress. M. De 
Lacy is very indulgent. lie says old people must 
8 * 


90 


PKAYER ANSWERED. 


not be interfered with, nor jet deprived of any- 
thing to which they have been accustomed. The 
matron was, at one time, much annoyed by an old 
lady’s smoking, and thought to coax her to leave 
it off. ‘I would not,’ said De Lacy; ‘ ’tis more 
comfort to her than harm to any one else. We 
mil break up every bad habit in the young, but 
not trouble the old.’ ” 

“I like the plan, deacon,” exclaimed M. Le 
Gendre ; and, if you will take the trouble of 
starting a similar establishment for males, I will 
furnish means.” 

“ Good ! thank God ! ” said the deacon ; ‘‘my 
prayers are answered. Such a thing is greatly 
needed, and you will yourself derive benefit from 
so worthy an enterprise.” 

In the evening a small music-box came, with a 
note from De Lacyj directed to Mrs. Abel. The 
note stated that the indisposition of and preparh- 
tion for the departure of his cousin for America, 
would occupy him for some days ; after wLich. 
he hoped to have the pleasure of seeing M. Le 
Gendre and Miss Esther, to whom he sent com- 
pliments. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


HOME TRIALS. 

Among the few persons, selected as visitors to 
Esther, were a Mr. and Mrs. Tincum, of New 
York. They were polite, well-educated people, 
and she became quite attached to the lady ; and, 
during their short stay in Paris, entertained them 
with great hospitality. 

By some unaccountable mismanagement on the 
part of Mr. T.’s agent, he found himself short of 
funds, and M. Le Gendre was happy to accommo- 
date him. They left with promises of letter-writ- 
ing, payments, and every demonstration of affec- 
tion. During the six weeks which followed their 
departure, everything went smoothly on. M. Le 
Gendre spent the greater part of his time with his 
daughter; she administered to his wants bodily 
and spiritually ; and, under her gentle influence, 
he became calm, and comparatively cheerful. He 
instructed her in mathematics, geography, and 




92 


TRIMMING FLOWERS. 


natural science, in all of which she made slow, but 
sure, progress. 

Mrs. Abel managed the domestic concerns 
admirably, and found in Esther a very apt and 
able assistant. Louise manifested much good 
feeling and thankfulness for the care bestowed 
upon her. All appeared well with the other 
domestics, as far as the good woman could see. 
Pierre was faithful, and she felt that she could 
confide in him. Upon Kate, the music-box oper- 
ated almost as the harp of David upon Saul ; 
Ivhen in a tantrum, ’t was- sure to quiet her. One 
day, Esther gave her permission to water and 
pick the dead leaves from her plants. 

‘‘What are you doing, child?” cried Louise, 
who came just in time to prevent her clipping off 
the roots of a fine passion-flower, which Esther 
highly prized. 

“ 0, I shall turn it upside-down; that ’s the 
quickest way to get dead leaves off ! ” replied she. 
“ See what I have in this box ! ” and she showed 
her a large box filled with the buds of the flowers. 

“ Dear Miss Esther, how badly she will feel ! 


A MARRIAGE. 


93 


How could she have set you about such work?” 
said Louise, mournfully. 

Kate refused to give up the scissors, and Mrs. 
Abel came in just in time to prevent Louise hav- 
ing a hearty box on the ear. 

The deacon made them his daily visits as usual, 
but De Lacy came not. 

Esther would have been glad to see him, but 
her time was too fully occupied, and she was too 
little acquainted with him to miss his company. 

The more the deacon and Mrs. Abel saw each 
other, the more necessary it appeared to be for 
them to see each other ; and, in the course of the 
summer, Mr. Day discovered that a woman was' 
very necessary for a man’s happiness, and that, 
with such an one as Mrs. Abel, he could be far 
more useful. 

Mrs. Abel had little objection to matrimony, 
and still less to the deacon, whose character she 
had learned to appreciate. But how was she to 
leave Esther? That would not do, as she had 
promised to stay with her as long as she lived. 

“ But,” said the deacon, “ when you made that 
promise you did not know the influence she would 


94 


VANITY OF RICHES. 


gain over her father; nor could you anticipate- 
so rapid a maturity on her part.’’ 

A few weeks’ reflection, together with the 
urgent request of both M*. Le*' Gendre and his 
daughter, decided Mrs. Abel ; and she was pri- 
vately married, and brought the deacon to her 
happy home. I say happy, because I believe that 
home must be happy, the inmates of which are 
employed in blessing their fellow-creatures. 

Esther frequently spoke of taking lessons in 
music ; but Mr. Day, who was anxious to bring 
about a closer acquaintance between her and his 
friend, De Lacy, proposed her waiting the return 
of the latter from Germany, whither he had gone, 
for a short time, on a scientific investigation. 

As we pass the splendid mansions of the rich, 
and see their fine carriages, and liveried servants, 
we are apt to sigh for the wealth which might 
bring them happiness if rightly employed. But, 
alas ! how little do we know of the splendid mis- 
ery within ! There are fond parents bereft of all 
inheritors but one, and he a fool. " What are 
those lace curtains, and costly carpeting, to that 
mother ? Will the golden cup, from which her 


CURIOSITY. 


95 


only child drinks, reflect light to his dull brain 7 
She groans in spirit, as she looks from her car- 
riage-windows, at the lively, skilful, peasant’s 
child, and says, ‘‘flappy is the woman, whom 
that little one calls mother ! ” But she never 
thinks to take to her heart some needy orphan, 
who might grow up to bless and cheer her declin- 
ing days ; and so she drags through life, a rich 
lady, whom the glorious sun of charity never 
warmed; for, too closely wrapped in silks and 
jewels, he may not enter there, but is reflected 
thence to some such persons as the Le Gendres. 

We hear them spoken of, according to the light 
of the individuals, thus : 

Mr. Prang. “ I wish we could get something 
out of that rich old fellow that lives in the best 
house I ever saw. You know who I mean. 
What ’s his name 7 ” 

Mr. Spathe. “You mean Le Gendre., He’s 
not old, but rich enough and stingy enough, I tell 
you ! Why, he ’d no more lend a hand to help 
us in getting up this procession, than he ’d give 
us his money-bags.” 


96 


GOSSIP. 


Mr. P. ‘‘Do jou know how he lives, shut up 
there in that castle of a place ? ” 

Mr. S. “My wife says, that he keeps him- 
self in his chamber nearly all the time ; that that 
poor child of his is never allowed to go anywhere, 
or see anybody ; and that he has a woman to 
watch her, and take care of her. He ’s so stingy, 
that he allows no company, if he can help it, to 
avoid the expense.” 

Mr. P. “ How, then, came he to give that 
large party, a while ago ? ” 

Mr. S. “ They say he did that to show folks 
how rich he is, and that the cost of it makes him 
so careful now. MTiy, I really believe they live 
as meanly as they can ; and, as to society, what 
little they do have seems to be the lowest class of 
people, for they go there sometimes, and remain 
for hours.” 

Mr. P. “Well, if that isn’t odd enough! 
His money won’t do much good in the world, 
while he lives, I’m sure. I wish I had it; I’d 
circulate it.” 

Dr. Jordan. “ My good woman, what kind 


A STARTLING CHANGE. 


97 


friend has Providence raised up for you, since I 
was here ? You really look quite comfortable.” 

Mrs. Bugard. “A kind friend, indeed, sir; 
an angel I may say, — Miss Le Gendre. She has 
been to see me, and done several things for me with 
her own dear hands. I never thought that such 
a lady could take hold and work ; and, then, she 
has sent me everything, and a nice young woman 
to wait upon me. God bless her ! I have been 
so thankful, and prayed, if it be the Lord’s will, 
that I may live to do for others as I have been 
done by.” 

Dr. J. “They are good people, indeed. I al- 
ways hear from them among the poor whom I 
visit. I believe they spend their time and fortune 
for the needy and destitute ; and they are such 
pious people, sincere Christians. God be praised 
that a few good still live among the wicked ! ” 

One morning, Esther observed that her father 
ate nothing at breakfast, and was unusually quiet. 
She had once or twice spoken to him, and received 
no answer. But, as that was often the case, she 
thought nothing of it at first. After a while, his 
countenance changed, and she became alarmed. 
9 


G 


98 


FILIAL FIDELITY. 


Mr. and Mrs. Day were summoned, who saw that 
he was in a fit. Medical assistance was called in, 
and, upon examination, it was found that his heart 
was much diseased. 

Esther was wholly unprepared for sickness, her 
heart being filled with pleasant schemes, and joy- 
ful anticipations. She had seen her father com- 
paratively happy, and was looking forward to the 
time when his affections and hopes should extend 
beyond this mundane sphere, and he, enjoying 
‘‘ that peace which the world cannot give,” should 
partake of the pleasures of herself and friends. 

A protracted and distressing illness followed 
this first attack. Week after week did the affec- 
tionate child watch at the bed-side of her only 
parent, rendered doubly dear by suffering and 
dependence on her sympathies. If she turned 
away, his eyes followed her ; if out of sight, he 
would ask for her ; did she retire to her own room, 
for prayer and a little sleep, he could not rest. 

Mrs. Day was anxious for the health of her 
darling, and would often try to get her away from 
the sick-chamber. M. De Lacy frequently called, 
d made himself very useful. Esther found in 


THE MUSIC LESSONS. 


99 


him a kind and tender brother, and the more she 
saw of him, the more did she liken him to her 
good minister in the country. Though this long 
sickness brought many duties, and occupied much 
time and thought, in this limited circle of philan- 
thropists, yet the charities failed not ; the poor 
and sick were not neglected, and none came to the 
house unnoticed and uncared for. 

“ There is time enough to do all that is neces- 
sary to be done,” Mr. Day would say. “We will 
not call upon strangers for that which we can 
better do ourselves.” 

Time passed rapidly on, and M. Le Gendre’s 
health began to improve. It was thought that 
Esther needed recreation, as well as occupation, to 
take her from the sick-chamber; and she com- 
menced her music under the instruction of M. De 
Lacy. Pupil and teacher could not be better 
satisfied with each other. He had never given a 
music lesson in earnest before ; consequently, she 
became the best scholar he ever had. He was her 
first master, and, of course, she never knew his 
equal. 0, those were charming lessons, in which 
soul spoke to soul ! Music was not alone their 


100 


SLAVERY. 


theme. The beautiful in nature ; the goodness 
and wisdom of God, the glories of another world, 
the sympathies of human hearts, were all talked 
over. 

Can you give me any particulars of De Lacy's 
family 7 ” said M. Le Gendre to Mr. Day, one 
morning, after Esther had left the room. 

“ They are, as I am told, of the moneyed aris- 
tocracy in one of the Southern States of America ; 
Virginia, I believe.’’ 

And does he intend to return there to live ? ” 
“ 0, no ! His father was a planter, and his 
mother still holds slaves, which causes him much 
grief He tried all he could to persuade his 
father to free them, his cousin told me. He 
abhors the system of slavery, and thinks it will 
bring some great curse upon that, so called, free 
country. He is right. It is a shame to America 
that she holds God’s free-bom creatures in bond- 
age. Why do not the high-minded population of 
the United States raise their voices against a 
government which tolerates so much injustice 7 ” 

“ They say, and perhaps they think, they can 


MYSTERY. 


101 


do nothing, at present, and many hope that the 
system will wear out of itself.’^ 

‘‘Never, while money is the end and object of 
man. I tell you, friend Bay, they can help it if 
they will. Let every black child, bom in the 
United States, be a free citizen, and entitled to all 
the privileges of the whites, then will a few years 
show us a better state of things. You little know 
how deeply I suffer, when I think of the buffetings 
and scourgings of Africa’s poor children.” There 
was a long pause ; then he continued, “ I wish Be 
Lacy were anything but a planter’s son.” 

“Why so 7 Is he not good in every sense of 
the word? ” 

“ Very, very good ! But I think he is gain- 
ing on Esther’s affections. I notice that she is 
anxious about the time of his coming, and sad if 
he chances not to come. 0, my child! My 
Esther I I would willingly give you to such a 
man, but — ” but, here the tears choked his 
utterance. 

“ You trouble yourself with some misgivings, 
my friend. Be Lacy adores your child, as much 
as a consistent Christian can adore a mortal being; 
9 * 


102 


MYSTERY. 


but he has never lisped his love to her. Let me 
but tell him that you approve, and all will be 
according to your wishes. France will, hence- 
forth, be his fatherland, if Esther so desires.’’ 

“ Tell him what you will, and now leave me to 
myself awhile.” 


CHAPTER IX, 


VISIT TO AMERICA. 

The deacon was overjoyed to talk with the 
young man upon a subject so dear to his own 
heart. De Lacy, in his quiet way, raised his eyes 
to heaven, and, with an outpouring of gratitude, 
whispered his thanks, and prayed that he might 
be a worthy recipient of so great a treasure. 
“Mr. Day,*’ said he, “I am overpowered. I 
could not, dared not, expect such a blessing.” 

Mrs. Day related all that had passed to Esther ; 
she was astonished ; the idea of matrimony had 
never entered her head ; she felt that she was to 
live for her father. De Lacy she respected, and 
his company was dear to her, but, for the present, 
her father was her all. 

About a week after this conversation, Esther 
received the following letter : 




104 


A LETTER. 


“My dear Esther: It grieves me to tell 
you that I must absent myself from you some 
time, — to me a very long time, however short it 
may be. 

“A letter from home informs me that my 
mother is dangerously sick ; her business de- 
ranged, and the plantation managed by a brutal 
overseer. 

“My aunt urges my immediate retui'n; and, 
dear friend, I must go where duty so impera- 
tively calls. 0, that I may be able to liberate all 
the slaves on our plantation ! This is my urgent 
desire ; but if I do this, and become a poor man, 
comparatively, will your father change his senti- 
ments toward me ? I know that he is generous 
and noble ; yet a fear lingers in my breast. I 
feel that it would seem hard to him to give his 
only child to a man whose character would be his 
only fortune. 

“ May I hope that you will yet be mine, if the 
Lord will 7 Give me this assurance, and I shall 
go on my way rejoicing ; for your spirit will be 
ever present to bless and cheer me. 

“I have determined to go immediately, and 


THE ANSWER. 


105 


dare not see you again ; I could not bear a leave- 
taking. 

“My best remembrances to your father; tell 
him how grateful I am for all his kindness towards 
me. God bless you both ! 

“ YourSj ever.” 

To this letter the deacon carried a verbal 
answer to De Lacy, expressive of the regrets of 
all the family that they should not see him as 
usual. M. Le Gendre desired him to give up all 
his slaves, not heeding the sacrifice of property. 
“ Tell him,” said he, “ that Esther will have 
enough for both, and that I would prefer giving 
her to him without a cent, than urging her to 
marry a prince against her inclination.” 

This was quite satisfactory to De Lacy, who, 
with a thankful and hopeful heart, began to 
make preparations for his departure ; the deacon 
promising to look after his poor, as much as possi- 
ble, and to keep him well informed of all that was 
going on among them. 

When winter had fairly set in, some of the 
fashionables pressed their calls upon Esther, and 


106 


PENSIVE THOUGHTS. 


used their best endeavors to draw her into society, 
as they called it ; bitt she steadily refused their 
invitations. After a while, they became piqued, 
and it was rumored abroad that M. Le Gendre 
was a retired Jew, who cared for no one, and no 
one cared for him. 

M. Le Gendre was still very feeble, and Esther 
often low-spirited. Music and books seemed to 
have lost their charm for her. She prayed for 
wisdom from on high ; she felt, she knew, that 
she was not in the right state of mind ; there was 
a void in her heart, and she involuntarily turned 
her thoughts to America. The more she thought 
of the distant land, the pleasanter it seemed to 
her. She had heard it spoken of as a country 
where all were equal, except the blacks ; and it 
seemed to her that, if she and her father were 
there, with their great property, they might do 
much good. Then she would be nearer to De 
Lacy ; he would be a great comfort to her 
father. 

Esther was often tempted to speak to her 
father about America, but could never muster 
courage, till one morning, when he said to her: 


THE PROPOSAL. 


lOT 


“Mj child, what do you think I have been 
dreaming about 7 ” 

‘'Going to America,” she answered. 

"True. But how came you to guess so 
readily 7 ” 

" Because I, too, have dreamed, and made the 
same journey.” 

" Is ’t possible ! And do you think you would 
like to go there with me 7 ” 

" That is, of all things, what I should like best 
to do, if you could be happy there, my dear 
father,” said Esther, exultingly. 

"It seems to me, Esther, that I must go some- 
where; this quiet life is what- 1 am unused to; 
and, perhaps, a sea voyage would build me up 
again. We could go to New York, Boston, etc., 
see what there is to be seen, and come back and 
show ourselves to the deacon and his wife, and 
then go elsewhere, if we like.” 

" 0, how pleasant ! Since you have told me 
so much about your travels, and now that our 
friend has left us, I feel a desire to see the new 
world, of which so much is said.” 

" De Lacy — 0, Esther, if I live to see you 


108 


THE PREPARATIONS. 


united to him, I shall then be able to lay down 
my head in peace ! To him am I indebted for the 
trust I have in Heaven, and the bright hopes of 
a glorious future. Many, many years have I 
wandered despairingly about the earth, blaming 
my heavenly Father for the very chastisements 
which should have made me better. Thank God, 
that I now see the error of my ways ! ” 

“ Father, dear father, how my heart rejoices to 
know that we can pray together, having the same 
trust, and the same faith ! 

‘‘Esther, before making any plans for a sea 
voyage, I will consult a physician, then confer 
with the deacon and his wife, who, I know, will 
not consent to taking you away. Can you, — are 
you willing to sail without your nurse 7 ” 

“ Yes, my father ; with you, I am willing to go 
anywhere, be anything, live anyhow ! We will 
take Louise, — she is a jewel. You never saw 
such a change as has come over her,” 

“ I thought she was a good girl, from the be- 
ginning.” 

“ I thought so, too; but, father, I have learned 
much of human nature in the few short months 


THE LOANED MONEY. 


109 


that I have lived in Paris. I see that we 
cannot judge of people by appearances. Louise 
is good now, and we will forget what she has 
been.” 

The physician was consulted, and highly ap- 
proved of the sea voyage ; said that it would do 
Esther as much good as her father. 

Mrs. Day wished to go, too, but it was thought 
best for her to continue her manifold duties and 
charities in her present situation of housekeep- 
ing. 

‘‘If you go to New York, you will have an 
opportunity of seeing the Tincums,” said the 
deacon. 

“0, yes ! ” replied M. Le Gendre, “and of 
getting back the money I loaned him.” 

“ Ha ! ha ! If you get your money back, I ’m 
mistaken in the Tincums. If they had intended 
to pay, they would have sent it long ago ; there 
have been opportunities enough.” 

“ You judge harshly,” said Mrs. Abel ; “ they, 
or at least Mrs. Tincum, seemed very honor- 
able. She will see that the debt is paid, I’m 
sure.” 


10 


no 


MATRIMONIAL SUPPOSITIONS. 


“ And you, my dear, are much mistaken ; very 
likely she does not know that he had money of M. 
Le Gendre. It is not in America as here ; there 
the women seldom know anything of their hus- 
bands’ business. Women often marry on supposi- 
tions, so to say ; they suppose a young man to be 
rich, because he has a fine store, or dresses hand- 
somely ; and they suppose it would be nice to be 
married, and have nothing to do but dress pretty, 
and rock themselves in a chair all day ; then they 
suppose that they can afford to live in good style, 
just like some opulent neighbor. The husband 
catches the inspiration, and supposes it is for his 
credit or honor to keep up an appearance, and that 
some good chance will come for him to make 
plenty of money. So he goes on ; debts accumu- 
late, and, finally, he supposes it quite necessary to 
tell his wife that he must turn bankrupt. She sup- 
poses so too. They arrange everything very satis- 
factorily to all parties concerned (except sundry 
washerwomen, bakers, butchers, etc., who are not 
easily persuaded that bankruptcy is honorable), 
and begin the world anew. Now, it strikes me 
that these good Tincums are blessed with the 


INDIA-KUBBER CONSCIENCE. Ill 

India-rubber conscience, which will stretch to 
accommodate itself to circumstances. We shall 
see.” 

Esther applied herself diligently to her English, 
and, with Mr. Day’s assistance, learned rapidly. 
She also read travels, and, as often as her father’s 
strength would permit, pursued her studies with 
him. 

Thus she occupied herself till within a short 
time of her departure, when the deacon advised 
that she should spend a few weeks in looking 
about her, that she might not, in a foreign coun- 
try, be a foreigner to her own city. He took her 
to all public places, where useful knowledge can 
be obtained, and assisted her in the selection and 
purchase of what he deemed necessary for her 
comfort during her absence. 

I pass over the tears and prayers of old ladies, 
poor children and servants, and leave the deacon, 
his wife, M. Le Gendre, and Esther, to enjoy their 
last evening pleasantly together. Monsieur leaves 
his papers, etc., in the care of Mr. Day, and takes 
with him as much as will enable them to do what- 
ever they wish. He prefers having money with 


112 


THE LAST EVENING. 


him, as he is no friend to business, and that has 
always been his way. He also preferred sailing 
in a brig ; for in steamboats there was too much 
fashion ; ships were too large ; but a brig was his 
favorite. 


CHAPTER X. 


DE lacy’s R^URN. 

M. De Lacy found his mother alive, but no 
hopes were entertained of her recovery. The 
plantation was in a sad condition, and the poor 
negroes suffering for want of food and clothing. 

The overseer was a very brute, devoid of feel- 
ing, and bent upon getting all the labor he could 
from the slaves, that he might turn it to money 
on his own account. He had heard, through a 
female servant of Sarah De Lacy, that her cousin 
was about to marry a wealthy Jewish heiress, in 
Paris, and had said that he should never return to 
America. Mrs. De Lacy was a feeble, indolent 
woman, the daughter of a planter who had been 
educated in the belief that negroes were stubborn, 
heartless wretches, moved only by the lash ; and, 
if ever a complaint reached her ear, she satisfied 
herself with the idea that her husband had pam- 
pered and spoiled his people, and that nothing but 
10^ H 


114 


DREADlUL DISCLOSURES. 


severity would bring them to. As to the business 
matters, she knew nothing. How could she make 
calculations ? There would be enough for her 
and the annual remittances her son was to receive. 
She thought things did not go on as well as when 
her husband lived ; but it was no fault of hers — 
a woman could not be expected to manage so large 
a plantation. Immediately after the interview 
with his mother, De Lacy began to look around. 
The overseer was all attention and politeness, but 
the poor negroes shuddered and trembled as he 
approached them. 

“What ails that poor fellow’s face?” said De 
Lacy, observing an old negro with a rag tied about 
his head. 

“ He has been fighting, or bitten by a spider, I 
suppose, sir,” was the careless answer. 

“ An old man like him fight ? ” ejaculated the 
young man. 

“ Yes, sir ; these slaves are sad fellows. I can 
do nothing with them. The more they are fed, 
and the better they are treated, the worse they 
behave.” 

Just then an old woman tottered towards them, 


A SCENE OF HORROR. 


115 


exclaiming, “ Young master, come quicklj, — she 
will die ! she will die ! ” 

‘‘ Don’t heed her, sir,” said the overseer; she 
has been crazy for the last two years, — she knows 
not what she says.” 

“ Come and see ! ” screamed she, in such a 
piercing tone that every fibre in the young man’s 
heart quivered. 

And he did go, in spite of the persuasions of the 
overseer to the contrary. 

“Heavens ! ” exclaimed he, as they entered a 
miserable cabin, “ what means this blood ? ” 

A groan led him to the further side of the cabin, 
where, behind a pile of stone, boards and other 
kind of rubbish, lay a girl, mangled and bruised 
in the most horrible manner. He asked no ques- 
tions. The sight of that poor mother’s face told 
the tale but too well ; and he saw, in an instant, 
that she had tried to make a barrier to screen her 
child from further persecution. Turning round, 
with a commanding voice he ordered the overseer 
to remove the rubbish, whilst the mother went to 
call help. A litter was soon prepared, and the 
poor girl taken to the house. After dressing her 


116 


rURTHEH DISCLOSURES. 


wounds, and leaving her in the care of her mother, 
he called the overseer, and inquired after those 
slaves whom he remembered. Some were dead, 
others sold ; and but few of those belonging to the 
estate when he left home, remained. These he 
wished to have brought together the next morn- 
ing, immediately after breakfast. Heart-sick, he 
sought his mother’s room, and found her in a 
quiet sleep, two black w'omen, apparently much 
exhausted, standing by the bedside. * 

“ Sit down, both of you, and sleep, and I will 
watch to-night,” said De Lacy. But neither 
moved. 

“ Why do you not go ? ” continued he. 

Mistress will have us flogged, if we move,” 
said one. 

‘‘If we could but get a morsel to eat,” sighed 
the other, placing her hand upon her stomach. 

De Lacy rang the bell. A tall and handsomely 
dressed mulattress answered the summons, with a 
polite and smiling “ If you please, sir.” 

“Bring some refreshments for these women; 
and spread a mattress on the floor, that they may 
rest.” 


TREACHERY. 


117 


A scowl and threatening look was her answer, 
as she tossed up her head and flaunted out of the 
room. Some moments elapsed, and no person 
appeared. 

“ Who is the woman who just left the room 7 ” 
inquired he. 

“Mistress Ahorne, the wife of our overseer,” 
answered the hungry women. “ She means to 
starve us.” 

“ That she shall not,” said he, ringing the bell 
violently. Another strange face appeared. “Tell 
your Mistress Abome to do as I bade her,” said 
De Lacy ; — and a waiter with food, and a mat- 
tress were soon brought in. The women ate 
almost ravenously, and were soon in a profound 
sleep. 

Mrs. De Lacy opened her eyes and shut them 
several times, shuddering, as she looked upon her 
son. 

“Mother, dear mother!” said he, affection- 
ately ; “ don’t you know your son, your Louis 7 ” 

“Is it you 7 — I thought it was your father’s 
spirit. Come nearer, that I may feel you.” 

He bent over her head and kissed her.’ 


118 


THE SICK-CHAMBER. 


“ Why did you not come to me before? I have 
written to you so many, many times, to come 
home.” 

“ I have all your letters, and there is not a 
word about your desiring my return,” said her 
son. 

“ My child, I have begged you to come to me, 
with all the fondness of a mother’s heart.” 

“ As soon as I knew that you wished for me, I 
came.” 

“ Sarah said that you were to be married to a 
Jewess, and never intended to come home.” 

^‘Wicked woman ! ” exclaimed he. 

‘‘Yes, I have been wicked!” murmured the 
mother. 

“ I meant Sarah said he, pressing her hand. 

“You never loved her, Louis. I am glad, 
now, that you did not.” And she fell asleep 
again. 

Hour after hour rolled on, and she waked not. 
The doctor came, and said she was in a lethargy, 
and might never wake again. 

The night lamp burned dimly, throwing dark 
shadows On the walls. Hardly a breath escaped 


SUDDEN DEATH. 


119 


the weary blacks. But the heavy breathing of 
his mother, and the loud ticking of the entry- 
clock, at the solemn hour of midnight, brought 
the spirit of his father, and a host of slaves before 
him. The former whispered, pointing to the 
slaves, “ Be free.” At this instant the death- 
rattle caused him to spring upon his feet. He 
had been lost a moment in slumber, and his 
mother was no more. 

With sad and bursting heart he closed her eyes, 
and went in search of the overseer’s wife, for he 
wished not to disturb the tired women in his 
mother’s chamber. But neither she nor the over- 
seer were to be found ; so he awoke the women, 
who followed his direction in laying out the dead. 
And he retired to his lone chamber, and the sanc- 
tity of his own heart. 

Next morning, neither the overseer nor his 
wife were on the premises ; and a package of 
jewelry, plate, etc., was picked up in the front 
hall, from which it appeared that they had robbed 
the house, and left in the night. 

Sarah and her aunt came to arrange for the 
funeral, and De Lacy informed the slaves through 


120 


THE BUKIAL. 


the women, that no work was to be done, until 
after his mother was buried. 

“ Let ’s go north. I say, Jim, now ’s the time. 
Young Masse so taken up wid de mudder, he no 
miss us. Oberseer gone, — hope de debbel git 
him ! ” 

“I 'se feer’d oberseer lick us, and sell us. 
Better stay, Jim, — maybe we get freedom and 
money too. He mus be good, he gib Carrie sich 
good supper, and let ’m sleep.” 

“ Now listen to me, boys,” said the old man, 
whose eye was bandaged; “if young Masse is 
like his father, we shall have no more suffering. 
I remember when he was a little boy, and how 
kind he was to all of us ; — never spoke a hard 
word, and used to coax his mother not to scold 
my gal. There was no flogging then, and we all 
worked, for we knew we ’d get pay for it. I had 
the best cabin of any nigger in Yirginny, and 
was the happiest, too, for I loved Massa, and God 
was good to us all.” 

We leave De ,Lacy to learn that his mother’s 
letters had been intercepted, and altered to suit 
the overseer; that a large amount of property 


THE OVERTURN. 


121 


had been squandered, or stolen; slaves bought 
and sold — some beaten to death ; the poor old 
man’s eye almost put out by a blow from 
Aborne’s fist, and cruelties committed which 
make us shudder to think of; and go back to 
Paris. 


11 


CHAPTER XI. 


KEVERSES OF FORTUNE. 

But. my dear sir, can’t something be done to 
save at least a part of the property ? ” 

“ No, wife, I tell you no. It ’s no use to weep 
and lament; we must give it up.” 

If it were ours, I could bear the loss ; but if 

they live to come home penniless ” 

‘‘ Do not murmur. God is just. We are near- 
sighted, stubborn mortals, unwilling to submit to 
his providence. Come, take courage ; — more 
depends on you than you are aware of. Try to 
make friends with the old man. He is sick : let 
him see that you care for him, and who knows 
but that you may influence his hard heart to 
give up a trifle, should our friends yet live to 
need it ? ” 

‘‘They do live, I know they live,” said Mrs. 
Day. “I cannot give up Esther. I ought to 
have gone w'ith her.” 


SAD INTELLIGENCE. 


123 


‘‘ How unreasonable you are, wife ! You did 
what you did for the best. Nay, don’t grieve 
so. I am going now to the owners of the brig ; 
they may have heard something about her. If 
you can’t command your feelings, remain here till 
I return.” 

In about two hours Mr. Day returned to his 
wife, with the sad intelligence that the owners 
had not head a word from the brig since the first 
of June, and had given her up for lost. They 
supposed that all on board had perished. 

Mrs. Day received the mournful news much 
better than the deacon anticipated. She appeared 
to have prepared herself for the worst, and to be 
ready for action. “Whatever you advise, I am 
willing to do,” said she, calmly, while the tears, 
which for several days had been pent up, began 
to flow freely. 

“You, as I said this morning,” replied he, 
“had better keep your hold in the house, if you 
can. Monsieur needs a housekeeper, and was 
pleased with our arrangements. Be as cheerful 
as possible, and avoid saying anything concerning 
his brother, as it only irritates him ; but persuade 


124 


THE HISTORY. 


him to keep the old servants. I wish I could 
relieve you of Kate, for I fear she will get his ill 
will.” 

“Mrs. Grey offered to take her, my dear, soon 
after Esther left,” said Mrs. Day. “ She thinks 
she can keep her fully employed, and that is all 
that is necessary.” 

“ Perhaps I should do well to take her there at 
once, and that will leave one thing less to worry 
us,” said IVIr. Day. 

While he was absent, the lawyer whom he had 
consulted came to get all the particulars of the 
family, which were substantially as follows : 

Count Le Gendre, of German origin, came to 
Paris, and married an only child of a wealthy 
recluse, who was also a foreigner. By her he 
had two sons ; the eldest a rough, hardy, muscu- 
lar boy, who left the parental roof at an early 
age ; and, as nothing was heard from him for a 
number of years, his parents supposed him to be 
dead. The other son, Esther’s father, was of a 
mild and gentle disposition, the comfort and only 
happiness of his mother. Being ten years younger 
than his brother, he had associated little with him, 


THE STRANGE BROTHER. 


125 


and there was no sympathy between them. After 
the death of his parents, from whom he inherited 
several millions, he travelled through Europe, then 
visited America, where he married. Nothing, is 
known of his wife’s family ; and his only child, a 
girl of nineteen, is thought to have perished with 
him in the brig Anne Marie, bound for New 
York. Two months after they sailed, a man 
called upon Mr. Day, and inquired for M. Le 
Gendre. Upon being informed that Monsieur 
had gone to America, he expressed great disap- 
pointment ; and, after making very minute inqui- 
ries as to his family affairs, took his leave, saying 
they should hear from him again soon. 

A few days after, an ofi&cer announced to Mr. 
Day the arrival of Eugene, brother of Herman Le 
Gendre, and claimed all papers and property of 
the former for said Eugene. He stated that the 
father’s property amounted to six millions, half 
of which belonged to Eugene by right of inherit- 
ance, and that if, as is reported, both Herman and 
his child are dead, he is, of course, the only lawful 
heir to the whole. 

Mr. Day stated that the actual property was 

11 * 


126 


THE STRANGE BROTHER. 


short of three millions ; and, as the fact of Her- 
man’s death is not verified, he should not yield 
his right of guardianship without further legal 
advice. 

Just after this meeting, the conversation be- 
tween the deacon and his wife, related above, took 
place. 

Meanwhile, Eugene Le Gendre resolved to take 
up his abode in Herman’s house, and seemed de- 
termined to carry his point. In a conversation 
with the deacon, he informed him that he had 
been induced to join a company of dragoons, who 
were going East; that he had fought bravely, 
and was taken prisoner, and had been many years 
a slave in Turkey, from whence he escaped by the 
assistance of a woman. After many struggles and 
much difficulty, he succeeded in reaching Ger- 
many, where he had been again detained by ill 
health and poverty ; that he had been furnished 
with money to return to Paris by an American 
student, who had treated him with much kindness. 
The student had never given his name. He said 
that if Herman was alive, he should still claim the 
property, which was his by right, for his brother 


A NEW MASTER. 


127 


must have lived well to spend so much, whilst he 
had been suffering for want of food and raiment. 

“ But is there not enough for both of you, in 
case my friend returns 7 ” said Mr. Day. 

“I think not,” replied Eugene. “He may 
consider himself well off if I do not demand in- 
terest for the use of my property for so long a 
time. But you need not fear for yourself, — I 
shall need some one to manage my business, and 
you seem to be just the man. I like the arrange- 
ments here, and will only step into Herman’s 
shoes.” 

Mrs. Day found it no easy task to wear a cheer- 
ful face with a sad heart. 

The new master was imperious and fault-find- 
ing, and the once happy home became the seat of 
disquiet and agitation. At times both the deacon 
and his wife were almost discouraged, and thought 
to leave ; — but a hope lingered that their friends 
still lived, and that by patience and continuance 
in well-doing, they could yet serve them. 

Not a word was heard from De Lacy. What 
could it mean 7 Letter after letter had been sent, 
— why no answer 7 


128 


MISGIVINGS. 


“ Perhaps,” said the deacon, one evening, as 
they were sitting together, ‘^we were too pre- 
sumptuous, too earthly-minded, and thought only 
of present happiness, and God will punish us by 
removing our idols.” 

“I cannot think so,” replied Mrs. Day. ‘‘I 
believe that we did right to enjoy what our heav- 
enly Father gave us for that purpose. If we live 
only in anticipation, there will be little comfort in 
this world. Do you think Esther w^as wrong in 
being so devoted to her earthly duties, and so 
happy in them ? ” 

“ By no means. The thought occurred to me, 
that you and I had not been watchful enough 
over ourselves; — that we were not sufficiently 
weaned from the world. In short, my dear wife, 
our hopes were here.” 

‘‘And so are mine now, my dear husband. I 
hope to see Esther again. I always felt, and feel 
now, that God gives us many things for our com- 
fort and pleasure. I have enjoyed much, and, as 
that dear child used to say, lived long in a short 
time. Deacon, you should have seen her in her 
beautiful white dress, kneeling at her morning 


PLEASING RETROSPECT. 


129 


devotions. Many a time have I stood and watched 
her, and joined in all her thoughts and prayers, as 
if she had been an angel leading me to heaven. 
She was so sweet-tempered, so good, who could 
help loving her'? Don’t call her my idol, — she 
was my good spirit. Thank God that we were 
happy with her, and that she loved us so much.” 

‘‘ You are right, my dear wife ; God placed us 
together to aid each other, and we did it ; and 
while we thank Him for the past, let us he willing 
to accept the present, and be brave for the future, 
come what will.” 

“ 0, deacon, that sounds like yourself, before 
you were desponding ! Now tell me what has 
happened to-day. I feel that something troubles 
you more than usual.” 

I hate to give you another pang. Why need 
you question me ? ” 

can bear the whole better than a part. Tell 
me, what has happened ? ” 

“In short, then, Marie must leave the house; 
’t is not safe for her to be here. And how to get 
her away without incurring the displeasure of that 

I 


130 


GLOOMY PROSPECT. 


brute, Eugene, who is not worthy the name of Le 
Gendre, I do not know.” 

“ A new trouble, indeed, deacon ; and one that 
falls on us. What can we do 7 ” 

I had concluded ’t was best to keep a good 

look-out, and wait for some ” 

Just then the noise of a person falling down 
stairs, caused both the deacon and his wife to 
spring to their feet. 

‘‘Madam!” cried Charlie, “Marie has fallen 
and broken her leg, I fear ! ” 

“Place her in my bed poor girl! I will 
take good care of her myself.” 

“How inscrutable are the ways of Providence ! ” 
ejaculated Mr. Day. 


CHAPTER XII. 


ESTHER IN ADVERSITY. 

“ Summer, with her sunny face, and perfumed 
breath, has gayly nodded her head in adieu to us, 
as she passed on to fairer skies and greener fields, 
bearing with her the sweet songsters and tinted 
flowers, and fast in her footsteps comes her sister 
Autumn, with her ‘ horn of plenty,’ scattering 
blessings o’er the land, and clothing the trees, by 
a touch of her magic wand, in their gayest attire, 
in honor of her arrival. The tiny seed which the 
husbandman planted in the spring-time, has 
swelled and budded and blossomed, and is now 
laden with fruit. The red harvest moon, from 
her home on high, smiles on the fruitful earth, 
and, peeping through the crevices of the well-filled 
bams, throws a deeper tinge on the golden 
sheaves, and bursting hay-stacks. The harvest 
has come ! the merry harvest time, when he 
who sowed in fruitful soil shall reap in abundance ; 


132 


HARVEST TIME. 


the time so anxiously looked for, and warmly 
welcomed, by the farmers throughout our land. 
May God bless and reward them for their honest 
labors ! Prosperity smiles not always on their 
toil, and their lot is ofttimes hard. Some may 
have sowed their seed in rocky and unfruitful 
places ; others, for want of proper attention, have 
left the yet tender buds to droop and die, and 
now, as they see their neighbors, who sowed their 
seed in good soil, and nourished it with tender 
care, gathering in their bountiful harvest, they 
gaze sadly on the barren earth, and curse fickle 
Fortune for their ill-luck. Why should they 
ascribe their adversity to Fortune 7 Know they 
not they are but reaping their reward 7 ‘ As ye 

sow, so shall ye reap,’ saith the Scriptures. 

“What presents a more charming picture than 
the industrious habitants of some quiet little vil- 
lage, gathering in their golden treasures 7 See 
the honest reaper go out into the field, with his 
‘ gleaming steel,’ followed by troops of little 
laughing gleaners. How swells his heart in grati- 
tude, as he gazes on the waving grain, and vine- 
yards swelled to bursting, — proofs of his labor ! 


EDUCATED POVERTY. 


133 


How fervent the praise that ascends to his Father’s 
throne, for these garnered stores that mother 
Earth has so plentifully yielded him ! 

‘ Then glory to the steel 

That shines in the reaper’s hand. 

And thanks to God, who has blessed the sod, 

And crowns the harvest-land.’ 


Thus, too, will He bless us, if, in the spring- 
time of life, we sow the seed of virtue, that, when 
his harvest-time shall come, we shall be gathered 
up ’mid his ‘ golden sheaves,’ and crowned with 
life immortal.” 

“ ’T is very prettily written,” said Miss G. 
“ Who did you say was the authoress ? ” 

•• A charming French girl ; so genteel, and so 
polite,” replied Mr. A. ‘‘You know I don’t 
understand foreigners very well, and I could n’t 
make out just what she wanted. I wish you 
would call and see her. I believe she wishes to 
give lessons, or write for publication, or something 
to get money by.” 

“Then, I pity her, I’m sure,” said Miss G. 

12 


134 


DARK ADVERSITY. 


‘•'The city has a surplus of teachers; and as 
to French writings, they would not be well re- 
ceived here in Boston. ’T is true that many 
people profess to study, but few, I believe, can 
read French with sufficient ease to make a pleas- 
ure of it.” 

“ There is no doubt that this individual is 
poor, and I do wish you would try to see her,” 
continued Mr. A. “If she can sew or crochet, 
my wife will give her work. Here is a dollar, in 
case she is in want ; that pretty face has some- 
thing so expressive in it that I am charmed by it. 
I believe I shall dream of her.” 

“If I were a beggar,” said Miss G., laughing, 
“I would find some pretty-faced girl to touch 
your heart for me, that I might finger your 
purse.” 

Miss G., who had long been known to the poor 
in her neighborhood, was herself obliged to live 
economically ; not that she was really poor, but 
because her income was too small to support her 
without carefully counting the cost of everything. 
She looked at the dollar, and said to herself, 
“If that girl is in want, she ought to have it; 


SAD REVERSES. 


135 


little as it is, it will do some good. 0, how I wish 
I had all the dollars that neighbor C. wastes, how 
much I might do ! ’T is too bad to be nipped 
and nipped, all the time, for money. No matter 
if it is cold and late in the afternoon. ' These Oc- 
tober days are short when there ’s so much to be 
done. ITlgo.” 

So saying, she started, and was soon at the foot 
of the narrow staircase which led to the little 
room occupied by the foreigner. She tapped 
gently at the door, — no one came. Again, — no 
answer. She lifted the latch and entered. The 
instant she cast her eyes around the room, poverty 
and destitution stared at her from every corner, 
and the little stove, without fire, gave a chill to 
the air of the cold room. A heavy sigh attracted 
her to the bed, where lay *a man, apparently in 
great distress. He tried to speak, but could not ; 
he made a sign to be lifted up, and she raised his 
head ; he looked anxiously around, as though 
something were missing. 

Presently, a young woman rushed into the 
room, and, running to the bed-side, exclaimed. 
Have courage, dear fatl^er ! God has raised up 


136 


A NEW FRIEND. 


a friend for us ! See ! See ! ” and she showed 
him two loaves of fregh bread. 

At sight of her a faint smile played upon his 
lips, as he whispered the name, “ Esther ! ” 

She broke the bread, and fed him, before she 
spoke to Miss G., who still stood near. 

“ What is the matter with your father? ” asked 
the latter, in French. 

‘‘ His heart is diseased, and now he is suffering 
from the climate, and want of the comforts he has 
always known,” replied she, evidently pleased to 
meet with one who understood her language. 

‘‘I came to see you about your writing. A 
gentleman sends you this dollar. Shall I stay 
with your father, or go buy what you wish wdth 
it? ” said Miss G., in her usual kind manner. 

‘‘0, you are very good ! A dollar ! I want 
some wood; some flannel for my father; some- 
thing to eat ! So many things ! What can I 
buy ? If you would be so kind, miss, as to get 
me some wood with it, -God will provide the rest,” 
added she, cheerfully. 

Miss G. went out with a heavy heart. Here 
was a case of real sufiering, and her funds were 


TIMELY RELIEF. 


137 


too low to relieve it. Rich people there were 
enough in Boston, and even among her immediate 
acquaintances, but it was almost hopeless to ask 
their assistance. Every one had so much to do 
for the poor, that, really, they never could look 
into any new case. Then, again, they have so 
many expenses, they can hardly afford to give 
away. The ladies seldom have ready .money on 
hand, and the gentlemen cannot attend to such 
little things , they support alms-houses and the 
like, and say, let poor people take the advantage 
of such institutions, and think themselves well 
off. ‘‘ Yes, Providence will provide,” cogitated 
she, and away she went to secure the wood, and 
find a man to put it in that evening. 

Before nine o’clock, Esther had a good fire ; 
her father was warmed and refreshed, and, with 
tears of gratitude, she knelt down, and thanked 
Him, who had thus sent a light to cheer her in 
her hour of darkness, to which her father heartily 
responded, Amen ! ” 

The wood and little candle must be husbanded 
for future want; so Esther retired to her place 
of rest, on the outside of her father’s bed, though 
12 * 


138 


PAINFUL SUSPICION. 


unable to undress herself, for the want of clothes 
to cover her there. Her father had pawned his 
watch for their scanty articles of furniture, and 
she only hoped that, at some future time, she 
should be able to earn a mattress and comforter, 
that she might stretch out her limbs, and have one 
such night’s repose as she was wont to have in her 
own dear white chamber in Paris. 

‘‘Esther,” said her father, “what have you 
done, my child, to get that nice bread, and all 
this pile of wood 7 ” 

“I met a woman,” answered she, “whom I 
supposed to be French, and asked her if she could 
tell me where to go for work. Just then, a young 
man, no not a young man, but a man, stopped 
where we stood ; he looked curiously at me, then 
at the woman, and they talked about me so 
low that I could not hear what they said. The 
woman told me, if I would go with them, they 
would give me what I wished ; so I ran along as 
far as a baker’s shop, when I made signs that I 
wanted bread ; the man gave me the bread, and 
told me to meet him there to-morrow at the same 
time, and that he would give me as much bread 


FEARFUL FOREBODING. 


139 


as I needed, and I could pay him for it. Now, 
is n’t that a very happy circumstance ? I am so 
thankful!” 

“ My dear Esther, you must not meet that man 
again, unless I am well enough to go with you. 
Gk)d be praised that they let you come home 
safely I Did not they ask you to go with them?” 

“ 0, yes I I am to go with them to get the 
work to pay for the bread ! The woman urged 
me not to be in such a hurry, to-night ; hut I 
promised to go again, and ran as fast as I could, 
for I feared I should lose my way.” 

‘‘ Must it be so ? My darling run in the face 
of danger for a morsel of bread I Heavens 1 what 
sins have I committed to merit such a punish- 
ment?” Here the poor man sobbed audibly, 
quite to the astonishment of Esther, who re- 
peated. 

My father, ought we^not to be thankful that 
our wants are so well supplied ? I don’t under- 
stand your trouble.” 

As soon as he was a little calm, he told her that 
wicked men and women often enticed innocent 
females into places of wickedness, and that he 


140 


LIGHT IN DARKNESS. 


doubted not that it was the intention of this man 
and woman to ruin her. 

Poor Esther shuddered at the thought of the 
danger into which she was about placing herself, 
and resolved to do nothing without her father's 
advice. 

‘‘You did 'not tell me about the wood,’’ said 
he. 

“ The lady whom I found in the room, when I 
came back, bought it with the dollar a gentleman 
gave her for the little scrap of French I wrote 
after we took tha^ walk into the country a while 
ago,” responded Esther. “0, I will write so 
much, if I can sell it, and we may yet be happy, 
even in this cold country ! ” 

“ I do not' wish to check your hopes, daughter, ” 
said he; “but I think the dollar was a gift, rather 
than the price of ' the writing. The gentleman 
told me, the other day, tliat it was almost impossi- 
ble for anybody to earn a living in such a way ; 
and, though you write well enough, there are 
thousands who write better ; beside, that pile of 
wood was never bought and brought up here for 
that money. Our blessing of to-day was in the 


THOUGHTS OF HOME.- 


141 


coming of that woman. I ’m sure she is kind, and 
will feel for us. Did you notice how much her 
voice sounded like Abel’s, — Mrs. Day’s, I 
mean 7 ” 

“ Indeed, I did ! ” answered Esther. Why 
don’t they answer your letters ? The deacon is 
so careful, and loves us so much. I fear some- 
thing terrible has happened ! ” 

‘‘I hope nothing has happened to them, and 
that they are comfortably enjoying our property, 
or taking care of it for us. May be they think us 
dead.” 

Here Esther dropped asleep, and the conversa- 
tion ceased. 

Next morning, M. Le Gendre determined to 
write again to the deacon, and also to M. De Lacy ; 
but he was unable to go into a store and write as 
he had done before, and Esther had used their last 
sheet of paper. 

They ate their bread with thankfulness, and 
Esther set about clearing up their room, when 
Miss G. again knocked at the door. With a smil- 
ing face she entered, and her look was, to both, 
like that of their absent friend. 


142 


GRATEFUL AID. 


“ I am SO glad to see you ! ” said Esther. “ I 
want ’to thank you for getting this wood for us. 
It is so pleasant to feel warm. We never felt 
such chilling winds at home as we have here.’’ 

‘ ‘ Perhaps you never knew the want of a fire at 
home, my dear,” meekly replied Miss G. 

“Never, madam, never,” ejaculated Monsieur. 

“ I came this morning so early, to see if you 
can help me do some fine needle- work. We are 
not well paid for it, but it is better than noth- 
ing.” 

“Indeed, I am very, very glad to do anything; 
and thank God for all his mercies.” 

“That is the right spirit, miss,” replied Miss 
G- “While you have , that feeling, you will be 
strong enough to bear whatever comes. When we 
are more acquainted, I hope you will tell me all 
about yourself. I know that you have seen better 
days.” 

“ It is not necessary to wait for that, madam,” 
said M. Le Gendre. “ I can tell you in a few 
brief words, that we were wealthy enough to have 
all that we desired, and help our poor brothers. 
We left home for a sea voyage, — were ship- 


THE SHIPWRECK. , 143 

wrecked. I held Esther in my arms during 
twenty-four hours, after the vessel began to fill. 
What became of us, for a week after the wreck, 
we know not. When I awoke to consciousness, I 
found myself in a fishing vessel, with my child 
lying at my side. At first, all seemed confused 
like a dream ; by and by I realized our situation, 
but I feared for nothing but Esther’s life ; — for 
that I prayed. I promised to be patient under 
all other afflictions. God heard my prayer, and 
now he proves my faith. I am afflicted, but not 
cast down. My life is in the hands of my Maker, 
and I shall not despair. Blessed be the name of 
the Lord ! We were landed, — strangers in a 
strange land, — my child and I. The money 
that was in my pocket-book, my watch, studs, 
finger-rings, buckles, have all been sold, one after 
another. Now there is nothing left. If I could 
but get an answer to the letters I have sent home, 
all w'ould be right.” 

“But, father,” interrupted Esther, “can’t we 
obtain the money the Tincums owe 7 ” 

“ I have thought of that,” replied he. 

“ What Tincums 7 ” asked Miss G. 


144 


THE FORLORN HOPE. 


Of New York. They were in Paris, — came 
to our house repeatedly,” answered he; ‘‘and 
when about to leave, borrowed a large sum, prom- 
ising to write to us, and pay on their return, etc. ; 
but we have never heard a word from them.” 

“ I presume I know the family, and if you will 
write, I can see that the letter is safely delivered. 
And here,” added she, “is the payment for the 
work I leave with you. Do it as well as you can, 
and I will try to procure more. Now I must go, 
for I have many things to do to-day.” 

As Miss G. supposed, the Tincums were on a 
visit to their friends in Boston, and she determined 
to see them if it 'were possible. The next morning, 
at about ten, she called, — was told that Mrs. Tin- 
cum Tvas not up, — could not see any one until - 
twelve o’clock. At twelve Miss G. went again. 
The instant she cast her eyes on the splendidly- 
dressed lady, she said to herself, “I ’ll sound her 
before I ask her to pay her debts.” At that mo- 
ment, a shop-boy was ushered in with a box of 
opera cloaks. She • begged Miss G. to excuse her 
till she should examine them. One was too 
coarse ; another not' the right shade for her com- 


FASHIONABLE PRIDE. 


145 


plexion ; one she thought she could take ; she 
did n’t quite like the embroidery, but it might do 
to wear once or twice, — she seldom wore any- 
thing so common. The price was seventy-five 
dollars, — she would prefer giving more if she 
could be suited. The cloak was left, and the boy 
dismissed, with orders to take the bill to her hus- 
band at his office. Miss G. inquired if she were 
acquainted with the Le Gendres of Paris. 

‘‘Indeed, I am,” said she. “They were a 
father and daughter ; charming people, and im- 
mensely rich. I should be delighted to see 
them ! ” 

“You can have an opportunity now, madam. 
They are in Boston, and will be glad to meet 
you. Here, I have a letter from Monsieur to 
your husband.” 

“Is it possible ! I have not heard of their 
arrival. When, and how did they come ? ” 

“They were on board the new brig Anna 
Marie, which was lost at sea a few months since, 
and are here in a state of destitution and suffering. 
They live in Utica street. I will go show you 
where they live, if you like.” 


146 


HEARTLESSNESa 


Not to-daj. I have a bad headache, and my 
nerves are very weak. I don’t think I could bear 
the shock.” 

There is an account between you and them. 
If you will settle that, it will much relieve their 
pressing wants.” 

‘‘0, we don’t owe them anything ! ” 

“ Did not your husband borrow money of Mon- 
sieur Le Gendre, previous to his return to Amer- 
ica?” 

I don’t know but he did. Yes, I rather think 
he did ; but that has been settled long ago.” 

‘‘You are mistaken, my dear madam;— the 
debt remains unpaid, and I beg you, in the name 
of charity, if not of justice, to attend to it imme- 
diately.” 

“Why, I ’m sure I can do nothing about it ! 
My husband has failed since we came home, and 
I supposed that everything of that sort was 
arranged.” 

“But, excuse me, madam, don’t you feel that 
you owe this man all the more, now that he is 
suffering for the very money you spend on bau- 
bles ? The price of that opera-cloak, which you 




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OUTSIDE SHOW. 


147 


say you shall wear only once or twice, would 
make him and his daughter comfortable for 
weeks.” 

“We don’t pay for our goods at once. My 
husband lets his bills stand till it is convenient 
to settle. I ’m sure he would be willing to pay 
M. Le Gendre, but he cannot now, — he can’t 
afford it, absolutely. We are poor ourselves.” 

A servant entered, follow’ed by an Irish wash- 
erwoman, who exclaimed, 

“ Och, ma’am, and sure I can’t be for cornin’ 
here agin ; it ’s the pity if the like o’ ye don’t pay 
for the w’ash. An’ sure,' an’ my husband is sick, 
and the childer are hungry, an’ I want me du.” 

“Why did you allow that brawling woman to 
come into the parlor, when I have company 7 ” 
said she to the domestic. 

“ An’ you don’t send me off once more,” said 
the woman, seating herself, “for I’ll stay till 
I ’m paid.” 

“ Bring me the vinaigrette — I shall faint,” said 
Mrs. Tincum. 

The man turned away with a sneer. 

Mrs. Tincum began to fumble in her pocket. 


148 


INDEPENDENCE. 


She drew forth an elegantly embroidered hand- 
herchief, and wiped her forehead. The bell rang 
again. 

“ Don’t bring any one else here ! ” screamed 
she, drawing an elegant purse from the depths 
profound ; and, taking out some small pieces of 
silver, she offered them to the Irish woman, who 
refused to take less than her due. After some 
angry words on both sides, the five dollars were 
handed her ; and she went out of the room, 
saying, 

“May mischief take the like o’ ye, and never 
send me anuther of your lace rags to wash ! — 
That ’s the way of fine ladies as ye are.” 

“0, how annoying ! ” sighed Mrs. Tincum. 

Miss G. was pleased with the independence of 
the washerwoman, and kept her sitting. She saw 
that there was plenty of money in the purse, and 
she hoped to prevail upon Mrs. Tincum to pay at 
least a moiety of what she owed. But not so ; — 
the hard-hearted woman declared that they had 
no demands on her, and she was not able to be 
charitable. It could not be expected from unfor- 
tunate people, who had just failed. 


VANITY AND DISHONESTY. 


149 


At length, evidently afraid that Miss G. would 
not go before other callers came, she offered her a 
twenty-five cent piece for them, saying she would 
call and see them as soon as she felt strong 
enough, and hoped to do more. 

Miss G. was indignant at the meanness of the 
giftj as Mrs. Tincum called it, yet thought it 
best to take it, lest the weak woman should flatter 
herself that she had wished to give to the needy, 
but had been refused, and it was not her fault if 
they did suffer. 

The same evening Mrs. Tincum’ s splendid dress 
and elegant appearance attracted the attention of 
the fashionables ; and Mr. Tincum wriggled about 
in his seat, evidently much delighted with the idea 
of having overbid a rich gentleman at the ticket 
auction. 


13 * 




9 

! 

i 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Esther’s journal. I 

Nov. 12. Eor more than three -weeks I have 
sewed and sewed with all my might, and have 
hardly been able to keep soul and body together. 

How I wish that that young lady would take 
French lessons of father ! — It would be a great 
help to us. Poor man ! how thankful he was 
for that little bowl of chocolate ; and how very 
kind Miss G. is ! Alas ! I fear she injures her- 
self in doing so much for us. She looked sick 
to-day. How I wished to work for her and help 
her, when she is so hurried ! 

Nov. 13. My eyes ache badly. What will 
become of us if I cannot see to do this fine needle- 
work 7 0, how my blood boiled, when that cruel 

woman tried to beat me down in my work ! How 
could she? expect so much for so little money 7 
Great God, forgive ! I do not mean to complain. 

I have been blessed beyond measure, and it is 


INWARD STRUGGLES. 


151 


right that I should learn^ bj experience, what 
others suffer. I fear that I have too little cour- 
age. To-morrow, if I live, I will be cheerful 
all day. I wdll try to find pleasure in my 
work. 

Nov. 15. Now that I have a mattress to 
myself, I shall rest better and feel stronger. 
Holy Father ! I thank thee that I am enabled to 
do the work which thou givest me to do. 

Nov. 21. So much time has elapsed, and I 
have not been able to take my pen in my hand. 
They prepare for Thanksgiving, as they call it. 
They ought to be thankful every day. Miss G. 
tells me that the families meet together, and 
have pleasant entertainments. She has brought 
us a chicken, all nicely cooked. I hope I may be 
sufficiently thankful. If I could meet with my 
friends ! Have I no relatives ? I dare not agi- 
tate my father by speaking of them, though my 
heart is bursting with impatience. 0, if I only 
knew who and where De Lacy is ! — Stop, stop 
rebellious thoughts, and cease ye tears to flow ! 
God forgive me, I do not mean to repine ! I 
am thankful. 


152 


THANKSGIVING DAY. 


Nov. 22. Father has seemed so much like 
himself all day. We, too, have had a pleasant 
Thanksgiving. How kind of Mr. A. to send us 
that French book ! Words are sweeter in French 
than in English ; it may be because it is my na- 
tive tongue. How strange we are ! Last night 
I went to sleep crying for sorrow, and to-night I 
cry for joy. We really do live tolerably well. 
Who knows but that I shall yet be able to get an 
overcoat, so that father may go out a little every 
day? I don’t care about any other shawl, now 
that I have this knit jacket. How strange that 
ladies should offer me old clothes in payment for 
work ! — but I am glad of this jacket ; ’t is almost 
as good as money. 0, my eyes, how much they 
pain me ! 

Nov. 25. When shall I be patient as I 
ought ? To-day I became very much excited. I 
must have looked angry. I thought, then, that I 
could not help it, but I see that I was wrong. 
May I be forgiven all these sins. I will try to 
to do better. Alas ! Mrs Day used to tell me 
that I was mild and gentle. "VYhat would she 
say, were she to see me in contact with these 


DEEPER TRIALS. 


153 


mean people ? A woman call herself a lady, and 
try to cheat me out of my just dues ! But I will 
make my father as comfortable as I can, at any 
sacrifice to myself. I feel that he is not long to 
be with me. 0, that frightful cough ! How it 
chills my blood ! Heavenly Father, help me to 
do right ! 

“ Nov. 80. A dog to board ! Who ever heard 
of such a thing ? Dear little creature, I begin to 
love him already. Well, this will be a great help, 
— one dollar a week, — and Miss G. says she can 
bring enough for him to eat, except a little milk 
now and then. The lady thinks of being gone 
two months, — that will be eight dollars. 0, how 
much I can do with eight dollars ! And then I 
am to crochet evenings ; that will spare my eyes. 
God be praised for all his mercy ! 

“Z^ec. 1. How cold it has been all day! 
Winter has come in earnest. 1 wonder what this 
pain in my shoulders means. I never had such 
pains before. Always complaining. Come, dear 
little pet, — that’s right, your good coat will keep 
my feet warm. You will warm the bed so much, 
that I can spare my jacket for father’s feet. I 


154 


THE PET. 


wonder what the deacon -svould say to our style of 
living now 7 I should really like Aunt Nannie’s 
black cat, to wink at me in this lonely room. 
Christmas is coming, and I shall make no presents 
this time. When shall we hear from France 7 
Why, what a mess for a journal ! Well, it ’s lucky 
no one sees it but myself. Somehow, I feel very 
happy to-night. I believe the dog will do me 
good, he smiles so prettily ; and we love each 
other, don’t we pet 7 Ten o’clock, — 0 dear ! I 
ought not to burn a lamp till this lime. ’T will 
never do I 

“ Dec. 2. Last night I had such a dream ! I 
hope I can dream the same to-night. Why need 
I think so much of De Lacy 7 0, my Father in 

heaven, forgive these tears ! Thou knowest my 
heart, that I am contented with my lot ! If I 
must. never see that dear face again, thy will be 
done. 

Dec. 3. This morning I did not rise till 
eight for the wood was nearly gone, and I 
thought to keep warm in bed and save it. Then 
I found father too weak t6 get up. How hard it 
was to tell him I had no money, when he asked 


FAITH FAILING, 


155 


for chocolate. 0, dear ! it has been a day of 
trials. I wish I did n’t need the work of that 
impertinent fellow ; but he pays well, and I sup- 
pose I must be insulted to humble my pride. God 
bless Miss G. tenfold, for her loving-kindness ! 
What could I do without her ? She is my patron 
saint. Well, I will muster courage and go with 
her to-morrow; but. how can I leave my father 
long enough to give lessons, if they take me 7 
He who knows what ’s best will order all ! 

Dec. 7. Now do I feel that my cup of afflic- 
tion is full to overflowing. Help, Lord, or I 
perish ! Dear father ! how can I part from him 7 
What will become of me 7 0, I am sick, sick at 

heart ! Lord, save thy servant who trusteth in 
thee ! Ffeign would I say^ ‘ Thy will be done,’ 
but my stubborn heart refuses. I cannot give up 
that dear parent ! How selfish I am ! I know 
the change would be for his good, and yet I am 
not willing to let him go. What is life to that poor 
soul ! 0, that I could lie down with him in the 

grave ! 

“ Dec. 10. One evil seldom comes alone. The 
doctor says he must die ; and the letter that we 


156 


THE LETTER. 


have so long prayed for, comes just in time to give 
the final dash to all mj hopes. And so my uncle 
has really taken all the property from us, and 
treats the deacon and his wife ill. They bear it 
with the true Christian spirit. I should like to 
go to them, but they advise me to keep out of his 
sight. Well, I can, at least, hear from those dear 
friends, and that will be a great comfort, let me 
be where I may. The money they send will be a 
help. Why am I always repining 7 I deserve 
punishment. It is an unspeakable blessing to see 
my dear father so ready to depart; to hear his 
prayers, and receive his benedictions. Would to 
Heaven that I were as good as he thinks I am ! 
Because he does not see me weep, and I try to 
appear cheerful, he thinks I am so, and praises me 
for it. Great and infinite Maker of all things, 
visible and invisible, renew thy spirit in the heart 
of thy weak servant ! 

“ Dec. 28. 0, heart ! cease thy beatings ! My 
head ! my head ! What are poverty, sickness and 
death, to the taunts and insults of those unfeeling 

Sarah De Lacy ! How could she cross my 

track again 7 Yes, yes ! I who gave the splendid 


THE ENCOUNTER. 


157 


entertainment in Paris, as she said, I am now 
beneath her notice, and she sweeps by me as if I 
were an object vile ! What am I ? The same 
Esther as in Paris ! A creature in God’s image, 
who asks nothing of her, of any one, but work. 
Work I must have to live, and I have a right to 
live, for God in heaven is as much my father as 
hers. What do I say 7 0, deacon ! Mrs. Abel ! 

De Lacy! — yes, De Lacy ! — pray, pray for me I 
“ Dec. 29. How differently I feel, from what 
I did last night ! I thought I was crazy ! ’T was 
very foolish to be so much excited, because that 
woman looked and spoke so scornfully. I hope 
the tears I have shed to-day were peniten- 
tial tears, and that the Almighty will give me 
strength to endure whatever he is pleased to put 
upon me ! ’’ 


CHAPTER XIV. 


M. LE GENDKE’S death. 

M. Le Gendre grew weaker and weaker. He 
did not appear to suffer much, but to lose strength 
from day to day. He asked Mr. A. for paper and 
pen, on the second of January, and, with a feeble 
hand, traced a few lines to the father of his wife, 
in St. Augustine. This he carefully sealed, and, 
calling Esther to his bed-side, he advised her to 
seek out her grandfather, and try to make herself 
happy in his family until something should favor 
her return to Paris. “ Good and dutiful child,” 
said he, “receive your father’s blessing. I know 
that God will order all things well; and I doubt 
not that there is earthly happiness in store for 
you. Remember, my child, that trust in God is 
worth more than all the pomp and glory of this 
world, and that your good conduct has rendered 
your father’s end a happy one.” His voice failed. 
Mr. A. laid him gently back on his pillow. Miss 


ESTHER ALONE. 


159 


G. and Esther stood at his side. He opened his 
eyes, and faintly whispered, “ Thanks ! ” then fell 
into a quiet sleep, from which he never awoke on 
earth. The next day he was a corpse. 

Esther’s grief was quiet and chastened. Her 
soul appeared to be with his in the land of 
spirits. 

Mr. A. and Miss G. gave him as decent a 
burial as circumstances would admit. It was then 
thought advisable to fit Esther out for her rela- 
tives as soon as possible. The physician, who 
had attended her father, advised that she should 
not remain in Boston till spring, the climate being 
unfavorable to her delicate constitution. 

Miss G. fully appreciated Esther’s delicacy and 
independent spirit; and had spared her many 
hard rubs with those ladies, who wish their work 
done in the best manner, and pay for it with cast- 
off finery. She had often paid doubly for a piece 
of embroidery, from her own pocket, and rejoiced 
that she had done so when she saw the gratitude 
of father and daughter for all that the Lord did 
for them. 

The money received for the care of the dog, 


160 


NEW INTRIGUES. 


together with the remittance from the deacon, 
would make a comfortable outfit for Esther. 

It appeared, from Mr. Day’s letter, that Eugene 
was far less generous than his brother, and had so 
much retrenched the charitable operations, that 
they were obliged to use their own funds, which 
were, at the date of the letter, very low. 

Sarah De Lacy was, as Louis told the deacon, 
artful and cunning. Previous to leaving Paris, 
she accidentally met Christophe, w hom she bribed 
to notify her of all that was going on in the Le 
Gendre family, and also to intercept, as far as he 
could, any communications between them and her 
cousin, should he travel, as she expected he would. 
Christophe leagued w ith Charlie, who told him all 
that w’as going on, thus enabling him to gratify 
Sarah in her wicked schemes. 

She rejoiced in her owm heart, but lisped not a 
word of the loss of the Anne Marie and her people. 
To her cousin she was more kind and attentive, and 
so far w’on upon his affections, that, when she left 
to visit her friends at the North, he regretted her 
absence, and begged her to return soon. 

In a letter to her aunt, Sarah, as if influenced 


PERPLEXITIES. 


l&l 

by the spirit of evil, enclosed a note to Louis, in- 
forming him that his jewel, Melle. Le Gendrey 
W'as quite a public character in Bo&tom 

This puzzled the young man exceedingly. 
Was Esther in Boston? How came she there? 
What sort of a public life could his cousin mean ? 
There w^as a mystery about it. Why had he not 
had letters from the deacon? Something was 
wrong about it. So he wrote immediately to Paris, 
requesting Mr. Bay, in the most affectionate man- 
ner, to relieve his mind from its distressing anxiety. 
Then, in as cool a manner as possible, he asked 
Sarah what she referred to concerning Esther. 
To the last letter the answer was that the young 
lady was now nothing more than a beggar in Bos- 
ton. She had seen Mrs. Tincum, who had herself 
administered to Esther’s necessities; and, more- 
over, she saw Esther, with her own eyes, receive 
money from a lady as compensation for taking 
care of a dog. 

On reading this letter. Be Lacy became greatly 
excited ; at first he thought it was written to see 
what he would do ; then he believed it true, and 
rightly supposed that some terrible catastrophe 
14* K 


162 


DE lacy’s plans. 


had driven her to the necessity of seeking a living 
in the new world. How it could be, he could not 
understand. What he was to do, he knew not ; 
he had freed as many of his slaves as chose to 
take their freedom, and the rest needed his con- 
stant care for a time. His means were limited, 
and his labors great ; yet he determined to leave 
all, and go in search of Esther. But now a new 
difficulty arose ; should he depart suddenly, Sarah 
would be at once convinced that he was in pursuit 
of Esther, and might put her wicked threats of per- 
suading his aunt to disinherit him into execution. 

The thought of that young lady being cast upon 
the world so completely absorbed his mind, that 
it seemed to him a duty to find and help her. 
Calling the blacks about him, he addressed them 
thus : “ My friends, you know how much I like 
to be with and assist you in your labors. You 
know that I would not willingly separate myself 
from my own family, unless duty called ; and an 
imperative duty does call me away for a time. 
Can you, will you manifest your love for me, 
by going on with your work just as if I were 
present with you 7 ” 


A NEW OVERSEER. 


163 


“Yes, masse, yes! If you mus’ go.” * 

“It is my wish to leave quietly; if you will 
help me, with God’s blessing, I trust I shall suc- 
ceed in what I undertake.” 

“Yes, masse ; God be good I ” 

“ Well, then, let me tell you each to do his 
own work without interfering with the other. If 
all is right, and you do your best, I hope to bring 
a friend to live with us, who will increase our 
happiness as a family.” 

“ Masse,” said an old man, “ ’sense poor old 
nigger, but, I tell you what ’t is, we mus’ hah 
somebody to head us. These niggers don’t know 
nothing, — how can um work ? ” 

“What do you wish to have done?” said De 
Lacy. 

“You choose one to tell the oder, — not ober- 
seer, — we don’t want um. Onlyjist so to go 
straight,” continued the old man. 

“ I choose you, *Sammie. What do the rest of 
you say 7 ” called out De Lacy. 

“Yes, yes ! Sammie^ good ! He knows whot ! ” 
shouted several voices. “And the cook for house- 
misses ! That go well ! ” 


164 


PRECAUTION. 


' ‘‘ Lor’ bless masse’ s young heart ! I never 

thought of sich ’oners, and I fere I can no be 
’sponsible fur sich high ofl&ce ! ” exclaimed Sam- 
mie. 

But the general voice was in favor of Sammie, 
and he was duly installed as a sort of patriarch to 
the rest. He was well qualified for his task, and 
his master set about making preparations for his 
departure, with a much lighter heart than he had 
anticipated. He remembered how faithful Sammie 
had been to his father, and he saw that he was 
respected by his fellow-servants, which was good 
proof of his influence upon them. Besides, Sam- 
mie was a Christian ; he knew that the eye of the 
Almighty was upon him, and he wished to live so 
that he could feel that his Father loved him with 
the love of a dear parent, who makes no distinc- 
tion in his earthly children. 

De Lacy, fearing the interference of his aunt’s 
overseer, should his own absence be noticed, gave 
written instructions into the hands of Sammie, 
signifying that he wished his people to exercise 
their own discretion in managing affairs, and be 
left to themselves until his return. 


THE ENCOUNTER. 


165 


Arriving in Boston, he found that his cousin 
had gone to Washington with her friends. He 
now tried to find the Tincums, but they, too, had 
left on a tour of pleasure. Whom to ask for 
Esther, or where to go in pursuit of her, he knew 
not. Day after day he spent in searching among 
the poor, and inquiring of the benevolent, but all 
to no purpose. Passing through Washington 
street one day, he was accosted by an interesting 
child, about six years old, who asked him to go 
with her to Summer street, as she could not find 
it. He, having nothing to do, led her to the place, 
and then to the door of a genteel house. 

“ 0, there comes Louise ! ” said the child, 
bounding towards a young woman, whom De Lacy 
thought he recognized. The moment she put her 
eye on him she cried out, 

M. De Lacy ! Where, where is Esther? ” 
‘‘Is it you, Louise?” replied he. “And can 
you not tell me where she is ? ” 

Louise invited him into the house, where she 
gave him a minute account of all that had hap- 
pened. After the shipwreck, she had been taken 
on board a vessel bound for Boston, and immedi- 


166 


THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 


ately on her landing, had been placed, by the 
captain of the vessel, in the family where she now 
lived, to teach the children French ; that she had 
not heard a word from France, and it was gener- 
ally supposed that all on board the Anne Marie 
were lost. She should be quite happy, for the 
people were very kind to her, if she could hear 
from her country once more, and be sure about 
Esther. She had thought and dreamed so much 
of her, that she was almost persuaded that she 
Was in the land of the living. 

M. De Lacy, in his turn, told her what he had 
heard through his cousin, and of his attempts to 
get some trace of Esther. 

Louise naturally related to the lady with 
whom she lived the purport of the gentleman’s 
visit, and she in turn related it to some lady 
visitors who called upon her the next morning ; 
one of them had a young gentleman friend, who 
had cravats, etc., beautifully wrought by a 
foreigner, who, she thought, might be the person. 
She promised to inquire, and, a few days after, 
Louise accompanied Louis to the house of Miss 
G., who was out of town. Her mother, however, 


A VOYAGE TO CUBA. 


16T 


told him all she knew of Esther, greatly praising 
her piety and devotion to her. She then gave 
him what she thought to he the address of 
Esther’s grandfather in Cuba. 

Highly delighted with what he had heard of 
Esther’s nobleness and virtue, under so many 
difficulties, he set out immediately for Cuba ; 
promising to inform Louise of further success. 

Pleasant weather and propitious winds soon 
landed him at Havana, from whence he was 
directed to Matanzas. He found the family whose 
address he had, but they were ignorant of such a 
person as Esther Le Gendre. 

Buoyant in hope, persevering in purpose, trust- 
ing in a guiding Providence, He Lacy was disap- 
pointed, but not discouraged. 

He returned at once to Boston, to get more 
particular information from Miss Goddard herself. 


CHAPTER XV. 


oppression’s devices. 

“Well, wife, I have at length found out who 
our nice young lady’s grandfather is,” said Mr. 
Brown. 

“I am thankful,” ejaculated Mrs. Brown; 
“the dear, young creature seems so lonely and 
sad. I ’ve not been able to persuade her to. go 
out with me since we arrived. She is very 
interesting. Don’t you think her a very sensible 
person ? ” 

“ Remarkable, for a negress,” said Mr. Brown, 
very sarcastically. 

“ What ? I don’t understand you,” exclaimed 
the lady. 

“ Easy enough understood ! ” retorted Mr. 
Brown. “ That freesoiler has played the Yan- 
kee with me. What impertinence, to palm a 
mulattress upon our care and society ! He must 


RELENTLESS PREJUDICE. 


169 


have seen that she had black blood in her ; — any 
fool could see it.” 

“ Why did you not refuse to take her under 
your protection,” said Mrs. Brown, very much 
affected, “if you knew it? Cruel man, to expose 
your wife to the sneers of the other passengers ! 
Here I have waited upon that girl as if she had 
been a princess, and all to please you. Shame ! 
shame ! ” and she burst into tears. 

“ Indeed, madam ! ” replied Mr. Brown, in a 
very angry tone ; “so you wish to blame me for 
your own foolish generosity ? When I spoke to 
you about the girl, did n’t you say, take her by 
all means ? ” 

“ Certainly ; — what should I have said, when 
you were so anxious to oblige Mr. A. ? ” said she. 

“And haven’t you been praising her every 
day since we left Boston ? I should like to know 
that ! ” almost shouted the affectionate husband. 

“Well, but I didn’t know that she was black,” 
responded the lady, more mildly. 

Here the entrance of a servant put an end to 
the interesting conversation. 

At supper Esther was not invited to partake 

15 


170 


NEW PERILS. 


with Mr. and Mrs. Brown, as heretofore, hut was 
served, in her own little room, bj a domestic who 
had listened to what was spoken in such angry 
tones, and whose curiosity was so much excited, 
that she resolved to make bold and ask the young 
lady herself what friends she had in the place. 

Esther answered her questions freely, and then 
inquired why she asked. 

“Because I thought it might be of service to 
you, miss, to know that you ’d better go to your 
relations as quickly as possible. Mr. Brown has 
ascertained that you belong to a colored family ; 
and if he is like other gentlemen who live upon 
the blood of us poor slaves, so to say, he will try 
to get some excuse for making out that you. are a 
slave, so as to sell you. I have tested the tender 
mercies of these white people, before I bought my 
freedom ; and I don’t trust any of them.” 

Esther thanked her kindly for the interest she 
took in her welfare, and begged, if the captain of 
the barque in which they came to Charleston was 
lodging in the house, that she would procure an 
interview for her. 


TRUE CONJECTURE. 


171 


Poor Esther ! she did not close her eyes that 
night. 

The girl was right in her conjectures. Mr. 
Brown, after his passion, at what he thought 
being imposed upon, had subsided, began to 
think that he would make the best of it by qui- 
etly returning to his own plantation with Esther. 
He supposed that ‘she, being a young, timid and 
inexperienced person, might be easily managed, 
and thus become a valuable acquisition to his 
household. 

At breakfast, much to the astonishment of his 
wife, he went to call Esther himself; and, after 
greeting her kindly, told her that he had not been 
able to get information of her grandfather, and 
would take her home with his wife, until he 
should receive further directions from her friend, 
Mr. A., to whom he had already written. 

Mrs. Brown attempted to speak, but a look 
from her husband silenced her. 

Esther made no reply, but turned an imploring 
glance to the domestic, who was waiting at table, 
which was answered by a significant nod. 

After breakfast, Esther retired to her room, 


172 


TRUST IN GOD. 


and devoutly resigned herself to the care of her 
Maker. All night she had wept and prayed, and 
now a heavenly calmness took possession of her 
soul. Something seemed to say to her, “ Be 
quiet, Esther ; God is with you.” And she 
looked up almost expecting to see a protector 
near her ; but no living mortal was there. She 
was alone, — yet not alone, fbr her spirit was 
communing with the invisible. 

Mrs. Brown, before going out to take leave of 
friends, came to Esther and desired her to prepare 
to go with them immediately after dinner. Her 
manner was unusually kind, and Esther thought 
she had been weeping. As soon as she was out 
of sight, the girl before spoken of carefully crept 
into her room, and, thrusting a letter into her 
hand, whispered, ‘‘ ’T is yours. I took it from 
his pocket.” 

Esther opened it with a trembling hand. It 
was a letter from a store-keeper in St. Augustine 
to Mr. Brown, stating that Gaetano Lopez, her 
grandfather, was a wealthy negro, living about 
two miles from the city on his own plantation ; 
that he was an old resident, and much respected 


A LETTER. 


173 


for a man of color. It then gave minute direc- 
tions for finding his place, etc. Here was a ray 
of hope for Esther. She copied the letter care- 
fully, and returned it to the woman. For some 
hours she sat thinking and thinking, but could 
not determine what step to take. Should she 
throw herself upon the master of the house for 
protection? Lucile, who was certainly acting 
friendly towards her, said there was no trust in 
these men. Should she attempt to run away, 
where could she go ? Again she wept and 
prayed, and again a spirit whispered ‘‘peace.” 

At dinner she excused herself, on a plea of 
headache. Mrs. Brown came to her, and, by her 
affectionate manner, encouraged the sufferer to 
hope that she did not conspire with her husband 
against her. Once or twice Esther was tempted 
to ask what were Mr. Brown’s intentions with 
regard to her, but prudence forbade. Her head 
did ache violently, but her heart was more at 
ease. She felt that the same Providence which 
had preserved her thus far, could still preserve ; 
and though she saw not the means of escape, she 
hoped, she trusted, that all would yet be well. 

15 ^ 


174 


A PLOT DISCOVERED. 


After dinner, angry words between Mr. and 
Mrs. Brown attracted her attention. The idea 
of listening was repugnant to her sense of honor, 
yet her safety, her freedom, and perhaps her life, 
were pending, and for the first time she tried to 
hear that which was not intended for her ears. 

“ I told you that I must go this afternoon, and 
you might have been ready. ’T is n’t the first 
time that you have served me so ! ” said Mr. 
Brown. 

“ Do go, if you must, and I will follow you in 
a day or two,” replied his wife. 

“ That would be fine. And what ’s to be done 
with Esther 7 — you know I can’t take her with- 
out you,” continued he. 

“ Leave her with me ; I ’ll take care of her,” 
answered Mrs. Brown. 

“No, you don’t let her slip through my fingers, 
I ’ll tell you ; she ’s too good a prize. I shall 
order the carriage in two hours, and you see that 
all is ready, madam. I won’t be balked by your 
nonsense,” growled he. 

“ You can as well wait till to-morrow morning, 
my dear,” insisted Mrs. Brown. 


THE RESCUE. 


175 


* “And you can as well go now, my dear,’^ 
urged Mr. Brown. 

But the journey was postponed till the morrow, 
and Esther went to bed and to sleep. 

She was aroused by some one creeping into her 
chamber, and, before she was able to move, she was 
wrapped in the bed-clothes, head and feet, and 
carried off. Scream she could not ; but she strug- 
gled hard for some minutes, when, finding herself 
firmly held by two persons, and carried rapidly 
forward, she yielded quietly to her fate, commend- 
ing herself to Him in whom she trusted. Pres- 
ently they placed her in some vehicle, in a lying 
posture, still holding her as if to prevent being 
seen or heard, and drove off at a rapid rate. 
After riding she knew not how long, they stop- 
ped and lifted her gently out, and into a room, 
shutting the door after them. She heard the 
carriage drive away before her head was uncov- 
ered. Her heart beat violently ; her breath was 
almost gone ; she trembled, and dared not open 
her eyes, till the gentle voice of Lucile cried out, 
“ Courage, miss, you are saved ! ” 

“ Where am I ? ” cried Esther, wildly. 


176 


FRIENDS INDEED. 


‘‘ Among your friends/’ said another sweet* 
voice, and a handsome negress smiled pleasantly 
upon her. 

‘‘ Are you my relations 1 "UTiere is my grand- 
father ? ” exclaimed the astonished Esther. 

‘‘We are not,” said Lucile ; “ but this woman 
knows your grandfather, and will go to him as 
soon as Mr. Brown is out of the way.” 

A shudder came over Esther at the name of 
Brown ; and, as if the man were ready to seize 
her, she stared around for a place to hide her- 
self. 

“I must leave you and go back to the house, 
that I be not missed,” said Lucile. “My sister 
will take good care of you till your grandfather 
comes.” 

“How can you get back, ’tis so far 7” asked 
Esther. 

“I suppose it seemed far, hut it is only two 
miles; and James is waiting with the wagon at 
some distance. God bless you,” said she ; and 
took her leave. 

The other woman sat by, and talked soothingly 
to the grateful Esther, who asked many questions ' 


OPPRESSION. 


177 


of her grandfather and the inhabitants; of the- 
insecurity of people who had African blood in 
their veins, and of the estimation in which colored 
people were held. 

“We are vilified, degraded and depressed by 
the whites ! ” replied the woman, mournfully. 
“ Less esteemed than the dog whom his master 
pets and caresses. 0, miss, I have been a slave ! 

— a slave to people who called themselves Chris- 
tians ! I will not pain you with my sufferings, 

— the very remembrance of which makes me 
shudder.” 

“How did you get away?” interrupted the 
attentive listener. 

“ I was a house girl. My mistress, Sarah De 
Lacy, gave me no rest night nor day.” 

At the name De Lacy, a groan -escaped Esther, 
which the woman attributed to fear, and con- 
tinued : 

“A domestic belonging to your grandfather, 
became attached to me, and we were secretly 
married. As soon as my mistress discovered it, 
her anger knew no bounds ; and I think I should 
have died under the lashing inflicted by her 

L 


178 


THE PLOT REVEALED. 


orders, had not her aunt, who is more merciful, 
interfered, and M. Lopez generously bought me. 
He pitied me, and after teaching me many useful 
things, and directing my thoughts heavenward, 
he removed ' us to this place, where we are free 
and as happy as we can be in this world. We 
have our papers, in case your grandfather dies. 
But we are saving from our earnings, now, to pay 
the moderate price he expects from us. Now you 
can understand why Lucile was so much inter- 
ested in you when she first saw you with Mr. 
Brown. She knew that you were not white, and 
her curiosity was excited ; for she has seen him 
buy several girls, and, at first, thought you might 
belong to him. Then you ate at table with 
them, and she mistrusted mischief, and was on 
the look-out. As soon as Mr. Brown told about 
the letter from Mr. Lopez, she came to me, and 
my husband and we planned your escape. They 
took you as they did, so that if any one saw 
them, they would not suppose they were befriend- 
ing you, or, at least, would take less notice than 
if you had been seen in their company. Now, 
Lucile will return and dress your bed. James 


night’s repose. 


179 


will come home, and Mr. Brown will never mis- 
trust where you are. I should enjoy seeing him 
foam and spout ; but he will not dare say much, 
for the keeper of the house is not his friend, and 
could put him in prison if he would expose him. 
Do tell me how you came under his care.” 

“My friends in Boston inquired for a good 
person, and he was recommended to them,” said 
Esther. 

“Then they did not know his character here. 
I am glad of that. I have been thinking you 
were entrapped in the first place.” 

“0, no!” said Esther; “never were better 
people than those who sent me here. I ’m sure 
they did what they did for the best.” 

“ Now go to sleep, my dear,” said the kind- 
hearted woman, seeing her look heavy and tired. 
“ In the morning you will know how prettily we 
live ; and I hope to make you happy till good 
Uncle Lopez comes.” 

With a deep sense of her dependence upon Al- 
mighty power, and a heart teeming with thanks- 
giving, did Esther close her eyes in sleep, for the 
few hours which remained of the night. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


ESTHER REACHES HER RELATIVES. 

Esther dreamed that she was at home, in her 
own pretty white chamber ; that the vases were 
filled with fresh flowers of the sweetest fragrance, 
and that Kate was busily employed in dipping 
the petals of a beautiful rose in the inkstand, 
laughing and crying out, from- time to time, 
“ Nigger ! nigger ! ” 

She awoke, and found herself, indeed, in a 
white chamber. The walls were whitewashed, the 
curtains of clear white muslin, and vases of 
sweet-scented flowers, apparently just gathered, 
adorned the rude mantel-piece, and scattered their 
fragrance through the room. On the white pine 
table were shells fantastically arranged around 
a large Bible. The bed-quilt was of white cotton, 
knotted in imitation of Marseilles quilts, and the 
-whole evinced a refined and pure taste. 

“ 0, how pretty ! ” said Esther. “ What 


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A DISCOVERY. 


181 


beautiful flowers ! I have not seen such since I 
left mj own dear plants ! ” and a tear started to 
her eje at the thought of what she had lost. 
But she brushed it hastily away, and, lifting her 
eyes to heaven, said “ Great Father, help me to 
be thankful for these thy innumerable bless- 
ings ! ” 

The sweet voices of negro children singing, 
attracted her attention ; she looked from the 
window towards the place from whence the sound 
proceeded, and exclaimed, Beautiful ! beauti- 
ful ! ” 

In an arbor of jessamine, roses and convolvulus, 
sat the negro pair ; a Bible was open on the knees 
of the man, while three little children were cling- 
ing round in fond embrace. The mother was 
teaching them to sing a morning hymn of grati- 
tude. Her voice, so rich and full, vibrated, not 
only on the ear, but on the heart of the listener. 

“ Are these the roses, dipped in ink, of which I 
was dreaming? ” said Esther, involuntarily. Then, 
turning to the glass, she sighed, “I, too, am a 
negro ! ” She looked again; her skin was white, 
compared with theirs, and she could see her 
16 


182 


DOMESTIC TRANQUILLITY. 


father’s look in her own face. “ Alas ! ” sighed 
she again, “I’m stamped, though I see it not ! ” 
and she burst into tears. Then, checking herself 
with a mighty effort, she caught the words, 
“ Thanks to Thee, Giver of good ! ” and repeated 
the strain in a subdued voice. 

She was nearly dressed, when Grasiella, as her 
husband called her, entered, and inquired, kindly, 
after her health, and showed her all those little 
attentions which the stranger so gratefully re- 
ceives. 

The day passed pleasantly away. There were 
many new sights for Esther, and various things 
for her to do. She could look after the little ones, 
and care for the flowers, feed the chickens, and 
fill up the intervals with crocheting. So true is 
it that persons df industrious habits find some- 
thing to do in all places, and at all times. It 
was well for Esther that the little children at- 
tached themselves to her ; — their prattle amused, 
and their innocent caresses diverted her. 

When James came in from w'ork, in the even- 
ing, his buoyant spirit and lively conversation 
completely drove away the few misty clouds that 


PLEASANT DAYS. 


183 


had hung over the lonely girl, and she joined 
heartily with them in the song of praise, which 
they never ceased to raise before retiring to their 
pillow. 

Sweet and refreshing sleep lulled Esther into 
complete forgetfulness of all that had transpired 
since the death of her father, and when she awoke 
and found something lying at her feet, she thought 
it was her pet dog, and called out, ‘‘ Carlo ! ” A 
laugh from the baby restored her to the conscious- 
ness of her true situation. 

Grasiella congratulated her on her early wak- 
ing, and greatly surprised her by saying it was 
nearly noon. Her sleep had fully restored her, 
and she arose and set herself to work as if at 
home. Occasionally, she sighed as she thought 
of the De Lacys, and longed .to speak of him 
whose memory she dearly cherished. But the 
words died on her lips ere she could give them 
utterance ; and Grasiella left her no time for 
reflection. Thus passed three days, quietly, com- 
fortably and cheerfully. The fourth, brought 
Lucile, with the delightful intelligence that Mr. 
Brown was far on his way towards home. 


184 


CUPIDITY DEFEATED. 


Such a time as he had with his wife ! ” said 
Lucile. “ He was sure that she knew where Miss 
Esther was, and swore he would not stir from the 
place till she brought her to him. At first, she 
tried to convince him that she had nothing to do 
with it ; but after a while, becoming angry, she 
threatened to expose him to her friends, and to 
commence search for Esther as a free person, who 
had been clandestinely stolen by his agency. This 
cooled him down, and, after various windings and 
turnings, he finally took himself off, never once 
imagining that I had any finger in the business.” 

“ ’T was all overruled for Esther’s safety,” said 
Grasiella. “ God always provides for his ' own 
children ! I ’m sure she will be cared for, where- 
ever she ^oes. She has the true spirit.” 

‘^Please don’t, praise me,” said Esther. “I 
wish I had the true spirit ! But, alas ! I feel my 
weaknesses ! I am not sufficiently submissive, 
notwithstanding all that God has done for me.” 

“We are all wanting, my dear ! ” said Lucile. 
“ It is not expected that any one should be perfect 
in this world. Those who do the best they can, 
according to the light they have, are good.” 


RETROSPECTION. 


185 


“ You are right,” responded Esther. “ I have 
had much light, and I feel that, as much has been 
given me, so also will much be required of me. 
When I was a little child I was carefully in- 
structed in the way of righteousness ; my years 
passed pleasantly, and my soul was at ease. I 
looked forward to the troubles of life with a deter- 
mination to live above them ; but, alas ! I have 
not borne them as I ought. I have yet to learn 
that it is good for me to be afflicted ! ” Here she 
burst into tears, and both Lucile and Grasiella 
caressed and comforted her in the most affectionate 
manner. 

“ You are very kind,” said Esther. “ And, as 
long as I live I shall have this pleasant home in 
remembrance. It has been to me like the ark 
of safety.” 

“ Yes, weary dove ! ” sang Grasiella, and the 
little ones chimed in. 0, it was sweet to the 
ear ! Esther thought she never heard anything 
so sweet before. 

That night Esther called to mind the various 
little expressions her father had used, in reference 
to her, during his last sickness. She fancied she 
16 * 


186 


SOLILOQUY. 


understood his trouble and anxietj on her account, 
and only wondered that he should have, at length, 
concluded to send her to her grandfather. “ Why 
did he not tell me that my mother was black, 
thought she. “Am I any worse for being so ? 
Is not my God the God of the whites also 7 
Why are colored people despised 7 Are their 
souls not precious, — and shall a jewel be valued 
only by the color of its case 7 How much father 
used to say against slavery ! Little did he then 
think that his only child might one day be taken 
for a slave, and, be obliged to hide herself in a 
negro-hut, to preserve her freedom ! What 
changes ! Who could believe that two or three 
years could bring about so much 7 I have been 
very rich and very poor ; a lady and a beggar ; 
white, and now — just what I was before. If it 
is my destiny to live with those people, I will try 
to be good, like them. I wished to do good by 
coming to this country ; perhaps this is to be my 
mission. De Lacy ! Will he despise me 7 No, 
he cannot ! He is too generous. But, will he 
feel towards me as he used to do 7 That is an- 
other thing. It may be that he thinks blacks and 


DOUBTFUL PROSPECTS. 


187 


whites should not intermingle ; but he is not like 
his sister, I am sure he is not. I long to ask 
something about him. If I live till morning, I 
think I will. How kind and good he used to be ! 
Dear father ! how much you loved him ! You 
were not ashamed to take a black woman for a 
wife ! But why do I think of being a wife now ! 
No. I have to labor for my fellow-creatures in 
another sphere. God help me to^e brave ! ” and 
she wept herself to sleep. 

Grasiella had occasion to go into her room. 
She heard Esther sigh in her sleep, and gently 
kissed her cheek, still moist with tears. When 
she went out she told her husband that she 
thought he would do well to get her conveyed to 
her grandfather’s as soon as possible. “For,” 
said she, ‘‘ the poor girl will feel more reconciled- 
when she realizes her true position.” 

“ She ’s a brave young woman,” said James ; 
‘‘ and I would do all in my power for her, even 
if she did not belong to good Uncle Lopez. I ’ll 
tell you, wife, it must be hard for one like her, 
who has believed herself white, to find that she is 
a negro. I do pity her from the bottom of my 


188 


SYMPATHY. 


heart. And I ’m sure she ’s a good Christian. 
Did n’t you hear how beautifully she talked to 
little Bill? I believe he’ll remember what she 
told him, about God seeing him always, as long as 
he lives. I know I shall.” 

“ She is good and kind,” replied the wife. 
“ The children love her dearly. She seems to 
love them, too. I thought she would have a fit, 
laughing so hard, to-day. Billy was standing 
round when it looked dark, just before the shower, 
and she said to him, ‘ Billy, look and see if it 
rains.’ Billy ran to the door, and after looking 
irp, and stretching out his little hand, he ran back, 
saying, ‘ It don’t rain ; it only leaks a little ! ’ ” 

“ I will see what we can do about taking Esther, 
to-morrow,” said James, after a few moments’ 
pause. “ Lucile thinks it best to paint her face ; 
it would save a world of trouble ; but, somehow, I 
hate to ask her to do it. And — ” 

‘‘ Let ’s wait for Lucile,” interrupted Grasiella. 
“ She has such a nice way of saying what is 
necessary. I do think she is a remarkable woman, 
if she is my sister.” 

“Well you may think so. Everybody thinks 


STRANGE PROPOSAL. 


189 


so. She is on the look-out, all the time, to help 
some one, and seems to know just the right time 
to act. I never knew a person so quiet as she is. 
If any one talks with her, she appears too diffi- 
dent and modest to say much. I heard Mr. Keyes, 
the keeper of the tavern, tell a gentleman that he 
did not think he could keep the house without 
her. His wdfe depends upon her, to see to all 
that is going on.” 

‘‘We never know when to stop talking about 
her,” murmured the sister, and fell asleep. 

A little after daybreak, Lucile came, saying 
that she had leave of absence for the day, and 
would assist in doing James’ work while he took 
Esther to her friends. She then awoke the young 
woman, and told her what arrangements she had 
made, and advised, as a safe and convenient means 
of taking her, that she should allow her face to be 
painted black. 

Poor Esther ! This proposition was an unex- 
pected blow. How could she change the face 
which God had given her? It was long before 
she could consent to it. At length, necessity 
constrained, and, as she cast her eyes in the glass, 


190 


A NEW FACE. 


she drew back and shuddered. Lucile saw it. 
“ Alas, Esther ! ” said she, “ do you, too, feel it 
a degradation to be black 7 ” 

‘‘ No, no, my .good friend ! ” answered the 
excited girl; ‘‘that is not the feeling. I know 
not what it is. I cannot analyze it.” 

Many were the kind words and tender admoni- 
tions of the two women, as they took leave of her, 
and good the resolutions of the latter to live as 
before God, and not in the sight of men. 

She had hardly been on board the boat two 
hours when she had cause to thank God that he 
had put it into the mind of Lucile to paint her 
face black. There sat Mrs. Tincum and Sarah 
De Lacy, and she plainly heard them talking of 
her. 

“ Do tell me how they came so reduced ! ” said 
Mrs. Tincum. 

“ I understand that M. Le Gendre had been 
living on the property of an, individual, a distant 
relative, who was in a foreign country, and had 
been prevented, by sickness, from asserting his 
rights, and that monsieur was obliged to flee his 
country, with his proud daughter, on the old 


THE MEETING. 


191 


gentleman’s appearance, to prevent legal interfer- 
ence,” replied Sarah, tossing her head. 

Esther’s blood boiled, and her eyes flashed. 
James beckoned her out of hearing, and whispered 
in her ear the magic word “ Patience.^' 

Two days after, she met her grandfather, a 
healthy negro of about seventy, who welcomed 
her with open arms, and, placing her in an odd 
carriage, drawn by mules, he seated himself at her 
side, and, as they rode leisurely along, engaged 
her in sprightly conversation, so that by the time 
she reached the house she almost forgot her 
painted face, and that she was, henceforth, to be 
among the degraded children of Ham. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


DE LACY AND HIS COUSIN. 

Louis De Lacy, having learned that Esther 
sailed'under the care of Mr. Brown, obtained his 
address, and immediately followed on to Savannah. 
He arrived at Keyes’ Hotel the very day Esther 
left for her grandfather’s. Mr. Keyes gave 
him all the information he could respecting the 
girl brought there by Mr. Brown, and of her 
sudden disappearance, beyond which he knew 
nothing. 

De Lacy was now at a stand, and, for the first 
time, considerably disheartened. Miss G. had lost 
the grandfather’s name. This was irreparable. 
Should he go to Mr. Brown, he could not expect 
satisfaction from so unprincipled a man. Esther 
had promised to write to Miss G. ; hut where was 
that dear child 7 Could it be that some one had 
stolen her ? He felt that it was not so. A ray 
of hope flashed across his mind. God has mys- 


DE lacy’s return. 


19S 


teriousljr snatched her from the grasp of the 
destroyer,” said he to himself ‘‘ My beloved, 
rest in peace ! There shall not a hair of her head 
perish. Not a sparrow falls without the Father’s 
permission.” 

These consolatory truths encouraged the young 
man, and he wrote to Miss G. and the deacon, 
requesting their opinion and advice ; then returned 
to his own home to await God’s providence. His 
people were rejoiced to see him.' Each one seemed 
anxious to render an account of his stewardship, 
and proud of the just commendation which he 
received for his ‘fidelity. Not one among them 
all had failed to do his best to please so kind a 
master. In leaving them to themselves, He Lacy 
had felt that he was making an experiment ; and, 
now that it had so well succeeded, his heart was 
filled with gratitude. Calling them together, he 
thanked them for the assistance they had rendered 
him, and, kneeling with them before the family 
altar, they poured out the incense of praise to- 
gether, as from one fountain of pure love. 

His business was in order ; his people diligent 
and faithful, and there remained little for him to 
17 M 


194 


A PLOT. 


do with his own hands ; but his mind was fully 
occupied. Esther was ever present to him ; in his 
walks, at his meals, by the sick-bed of some poor 
negro, or teaching the way of peace, he seemed 
to feel her influence. Where can she be 7 ’’ he 
would often say aloud. 

One day his aunt sent for him in haste. 

‘‘ Louis, said she, “is it true that you are 
engaged to be married 7 ” 

“ I am.” 

“ And to whom 7 ” 

“ A young lady in Paris.” 

“ What did you tell me 7 ” said she, turning to 
Sarah. 

“ That Louis was engaged to a colored woman.” 

“ ’T is false ! ” exclaimed the indignant young 
man. “ I never had such a thought. Not that I 
do not think a negress preferable to many white 
ladies,” — and here he gave Sarah such a look as 
she well understood, — “but that my heart has 
long been betrothed.” 

“ Will you promise,” said his aunt, “that you 
do not intend to marry any black person about 


A PLOT. 


195 


here, — that you will not?” pursued the wicked 
woman. 

“ Certainly, I will ; upon the word of a man of 
honor.” 

‘‘That is all I want, said his aunt. “I am 
going to Europe to spend a few months, and I 
wish to prepare /for accidents, or sudden death. 
You know that I purpose to give you two-thirds 
•of my property ; but if you disgrace the family by 
an improper matrimonial alliance, you will for- 
feit all claims to any of my possessions. I do not 
know how Sarah could have told me such a 
strange story about you.” 

“ I do not wish to justify myself, aunt, but you 
will see for yourself, and before long, or I am 
mistaken.” 

Louis was now completely entrapped. He had 
not thought of Esther in connection with the 
blacks, and was astonished at the effrontery of his 
cousin’s remarks. She, on the contrary, had had 
the whole story as a secret from her friend, Mrs. 
Brown, who knew Gaetano Lopez, had heard the 
story of his eldest daughter, who was a handsome 
young lady, marrying a count, and going to 


196 


AN ACCIDENT. 


France ; and thus she saw the whole at a glance. 
Fearful that Louis would meet or see her in some 
waj, she determined to prejudice her aunt, and 
thus throw a barrier in the way of her cousin’s 
happiness. She was conscious that he never 
would marry Aer, and she meant to prevent his 
marrying Esther, if possible. 

After Louis left his aunt he began to ponder 
upon the intentions of his cousin. “ She has some 
mischief in hand,” thought he. “ No doubt she 
is plotting against me, but I will be upon my 
guard.” 

At twilight of the same day he was going 
quickly down a flight of steps, which led into the 
garden, whither he was attracted by the cry of an 
animal in distress, when his foot slipped, and he 
fell, badly spraining his ankle. He was taken to 
his chamber, and ordered to remain perfectly quiet 
for some weeks. This was a drawback to his 
plans for finding Esther. Though he returned 
home with a determination to await God’s provi- 
dence, he was not one of those who sit idle, ex- 
pecting miracles in their favor. He knew that 
“ God helps him who helps himself,” and trusted 


TRAITS OF SLAVERY. 


197 


to be guided by the good Spirit, in his inquiries 
of every family in and about the city. It was no 
easy or agreeable task, as it had thus far proved ; 
for every one wished to know who and what the 
young female could be, in whom he was so much 
interested. Then he had no clue to her being 
there, and how could he expect her relations, if he 
succeeded in finding them, should know where she 
was 7 If Sarah discovered what his projects were, 
would she not make trouble for him, and might 
she not even thwart him in his endeavors 7 

“ ’T is hard to be obliged to lie here,” said he. 
“ But, no doubt, ’t is all for the best. Some 
good will certainly come of it, if I do my duty.” 

Sarah’s aunt left, as was proposed, and, for 
some months, she remained mistress of the estab- 
lishment. Bitter were the complaints she was 
continually making to Louis of the bad conduct 
of her household. “’Tis impossible to live in 
peace with them,” she would often say. “ They 
are thieves and liars. My aunt has spoiled them 
by indulgence ; but I ’ll try to teach them some- 
thing before she comes back.” 

“ How will you teach them 7 ” asked Louis. 

16* 


198 


TRAITS OR SLAVERY. 


“How? They’ll catch it, I guess! Only 
yesterday that saucy Cleora took such a lashing 
as tamed her a little ! I was so vexed that I 
really enjoyed looking on to see her beaten — ” 

“ Cruel, wicked woman ! ” interrupted Louis. 

“ ’T is easy for you to say that ; you, who have 
had no experience. You chance to be with a set 
of worn-out old creatures, whose mettle has been 
brought down long ago. Besides, they see how 
careless you are of your property, and they mean 
to feather their own nests, no doubt. Aunt said 
’t was foolish in you to free the best you had, and 
keep such poor ones about you.” 

“ Did aunt say that ? ” 

“To be sure she did. Do you doubt my 
word? ” 

“ Sarah, you ask a serious question. Kemem- 
ber that we are in the sight of Him, who knows 
the very thoughts of our hearts, and tell me, if I 
have not reason to doubt your word.” 

“ I don’t understand your reasoning. 1 reason 
to suit myself, and suppose everybody else does 
the same. You are always talking about God. 
What do you suppose he cares about you or mo, 


KINDNESS AND CRUELTY. 


199 


or our blacks 7 Cleora prayed him hard enough 
yesterday to prevent her being flogged ; but I 
did n’t see that he interfered, or that she screamed 
any the less because she ’s so pious.” 

“ Sarah ! Sarah ! are you such a monster 7 
Alas ! that we should belong to the same family, 
and I have not been able to improve you. I fear 
that you will meet with some terrible calamity. 
The wicked may not always prosper ; there will 
be a day of retribution. Every blow that you 
have so inhumanly inflicted on the poor wretches 
in your power, will be repeated with tenfold sever- 
ity, lacerating your soul, unless you repent and 
turn from your wickedness.” 

“Well, that’s more of a sermon than I’ve 
heard this long time ! Hope you won’t feel it a 
duty to pray for some terrible thing to happen to 
me ! ” 

“ How can you be so thoughtless, and talk so 
lightly of your spiritual welfare 7 Tell me if you 
are happy.” 

“ 0, now you touch upon a subject which con- 
cerns yourself ! If I am not happy, you know 
whose fault it is.” 


200 


A DARK SPIRIT. 


“It is your own fault, and not that of any 
other. You have ability and means of being a 
useful and profitable member of society ; and you 
have never tried to use them. As far as I know, 
you have studied only your own interests, and 
how can you expect to be happy, or even at peace 
within yourself? Take my advice, cousin; try to 
be kind to those poor creatures about you. Gain 
their affections ; improve their intellects, at least, 
if you cannot cultivate their hearts. Occupy 
yourself constantly, — read, meditate and pray.” 

“ You may do the praying, if you believe in it. 
I think I have a more exalted idea of God than 
you have. I don’t think he changes his plans, 
and the natural laws he has established, to please 
every praying man and woman.” 

“ Do not speak so, I beg of you. It pains me 
to hear you talk so mockingly. No one ever pre- 
tends that God changes his all-wise plans. We 
pray for strength and courage to bear what is our 
lot. The physical strength is sometimes unequal 
to the struggles we are called upon to endure ; but, 
though- nature may cry out, the soul is immova- 
ble. If your Cleora be a Christian, she will not 


POOR CLEORA. 


201 


cease to pray, though she was beaten. Poor girl ! 
I wish I could see her and talk with her. Will 
you not do me the favor to lend her services while 
I am lame ? ” 

“ I don’t know how I could spare her.” 

“ I thought she troubled you, and you would 
like to be rid of her,” said Be Lacy. 

“ So I would, if I could ’find any one to fill 
her place. She never disappoints me when she 
promises to do a thing. I complained of her being 
saucy.” 

“ Pray tell me what you call saucy.” 

“ Why, she will go away and stay two or three 
hours at a time, and, when I ask her where she 
goes, she absolutely refuses to tell. A few days 
ago she was singing a favorite French air; I 
asked her where she learned it. At first she 
begged to be excused from telling ; then said she 
would not, unless aunt obliged her to. I told her 
that aunt left me in her stead, and that she must 
mind me ; at which she gave me such a look — the 
hussy ! — as made my blood boil.” 

“And so you had her severely punished for 
it?” 


202 


passion’s victim. 


To be sure I did ; and will again, till I teach 
her how to treat her superiors.” 

“I do wish you would send her here for a 
while.” 

“Well, if you will promise to keep her at 
work, and be very strict with her, she may 
come.” 

“ Now, one thing more, Sarah. Will you read 
that little book on the table? I think ’twill please 
you.” 

She took it up, read the title, ‘‘ The Way to be 
Happy,” and, yawning, laid it down, saying, ‘‘ ’T is 
too religious. I ’ll wait till I ’m older before I 
read such serious works.” 

The next day Cleora came to De Lacy's. She 
was a remarkably handsome mulattress, with a 
bright, intelligent countenance. But her look 
was sad, and her bandaged arms and swollen neck 
bespoke the cruelties of her mistress. 

As she approached the bed, Louis extended his 
hand, saying, “ I am very glad you have come. 
I trust we shall mutually benefit each other. 
From what I hear of you, I feel convinced that 


THE slave’s misery. 


203 


you will be happy, at least while you stay 
here.” 

“Happy, sir!” said she, respectfully. “Hap- 
py I can never be in slavery ! My heavenly 
Father made his children equal. What is the 
difference between me and Sarah De Lacy, except 
that I would not treat the vilest creature living as 
she treats me, treats all of us 1 Look at these 
wounds, and tell me if I can be happy in expect- 
ation of the like, if I but look contrary to the 
wishes of a mistress — a tyrant, I should say.” 

“The whole system of slavery is an abomina- 
tion, which I abhor as much as you can, and 
would gladly do anything in my power to oblit- 
erate it from the recollection of mankind. God 
grant that the time may come when such a word 
as slave will be unknown ! ” 

“You speak like a Christian,” interrupted 
Cleora. “Yet, why do you, with such principles, 
hold men in bondage ? Are not you a slave- 
holder ? Do they not call you master 7 ” 

“In one sense I am a slave-holder, for my 
people will not accept their liberty. Yet they 
are free to act for themselves individually. We 


204 


HAPPY HOUSEHOLD. 


are a well-regulated household. With us there is 
nothing compulsory. Ask my people ; let them 
speak for themselves. As to calling me master, 
’t is a habit, a word without meaning among 
them. I am a brother, a teacher, a minister of 
Christ.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


ESTHER WITH HER RELATIVES. 

Esther was cordially welcomed by several 
grown people, — some very black, some whiter, 
but none so white as herself. These were her 
uncles and aunts. It was evening when she ar- 
rived, and being fatigued she soon retired. In 
the morning, when she appeared at the breakfast- 
table, one would have compared her to a “ white 
lily in a bunch of violets.” Her grandfather 
could not keep his eyes from her face ; and his 
pleasant and cheerful countenance soothed her into 
a quiet feeling, to which she had long been a 
stranger. She looked around ; there was an air 
of ease and plenty. On every side she met smil- 
ing countenances. 

‘‘How pretty she is !” said a little coal-black 
urchin, smoothing her arm. 

“ What makes she so white ? ” said another. . 

18 


206 


Esther’s mother. 


“ Grandpa, grandpa ! ” said a third, ‘Ms this 
the aunty you said was drowned in sea 7 ” 

“ No, child, ’t is that aunty’s baby.” 

“ How much she is like her mother ! ” observed 
one of the women. “ I should have known her 
anywhere.” 

“ If she is as good she will make us all happy,” 
said the old gentleman. 

“ Ho tell me all about my mother,” said 
Esther. “I could never get my father to speak 
of her.” 

“ Because she was colored, I suppose,” replied 
Mr. Lopez, seriously. “Yet he loved her very 
tenderly.” 

“ Indeed he did. I think he did not like to 
speak of her because it made him sad.” 

“Esther, my child, there is a prejudice against 
us. The whites feel themselves our superiors. I 
was surprised when- your father asked my daugh- 
ter’s hand in marriage. I refused, for I saw that 
her position in society would render her unhappy 
even with a loving husband. He urged his suit. 
He said he would live in France, where the people 
are more generous and more just than here. I 


HER GRANDFATHER. 


207 


consented to part with mj darling, and they sailed 
for France. You were given to them, and she 
was taken away. I^as almost heartbroken when 
I heard the^news of her death ; but God has been 
merciful, and given me more sons and daughters 
in her stead. Esther, we are your colored rela- 
tives, ’t is true ; but our hearts are warm, and our 
love as pure as the white man’s. Can you, will 
you be happy to stay with and love us 7 Your 
father requests in his letter that you may go back 
to France whenever you desire it. I will not 
contradict his dying wish.” 

“You are very, very kind, my dear grand- 
father. I feel, I trust, that I shall soon be a 
happy member of this happy family. I hope that 
you will allow me to make myself useful. I have 
always been accustomed to labor in some way or 
another for the good of others.” 

“ By all means, Esther. It is a rule of our 
household that every one shall be fully occupied. 
Though we appear to have plenty of help, and 
would be glad to wait upon you, yet we shall 
leave you to do just as you please. This house 
and we who are here are at your disposal ; and 


208 


FAMILY WORSHIP. 


any arrangement that you can make, which will 
contribute to your happiness, we are ready to 
comply with. Your dear mother used to read to 
us every morning and evening ; perhaps you 
will do the same. We can read, some of us, but 
not very well.” 

“ I will do the best I can ; but my English is 
not good. Do you understand French 7 ” 

“Not all of us. We should prefer the Eng- 
lish,” said he, and handed her the old family 
Bible. 

Esther breathed a prayer of thanksgiving that 
she was with godly people. She opened the New 
Testament at the first epistle of John, and read 
the third chapter, in a sweet tone. All listened 
attentively. It was a pleasing sight. The room 
was large and neatly furnished. Gay flowers 
were its chief ornament. A few pictures deco- 
rated the walls. The table stood in the centre ; 
grandfather in his large arm-chair, with gray hair 
and beard, and the beautiful Esther at his side. 
Around the table, different shades of dark color, 
and, standing in quiet and listening attitude, nu- 
merous domestics, men, women and children, old 


NEW DEVELOPMENTS. 


209 


and young ; some fantastically dressed in gay 
colors, some in pure white, with high turbans on 
their heads, and the little ones with just a simple 
garment thrown over to cover their nudity. 

From time to time the old patriarch made some 
' observation on the words read. At the close of 
the reading they all sang a monotonous kind of 
chant ; and then, after mutual leave-taking and 
many looks of curiosity and pleasure cast at 
Esther, they went quietly their several ways. 

A cabriolet was brought to the door, and Esther 
again seated by her grandfather, who wished to 
show her his property. She w'as delighted with 
the luxuriance of the vegetation, and the taste 
displayed in the laying out of the grounds. 
She observed that many things reminded her of 
France. 

“No doubt,” said the grandfather; “for my 
master, from whom I learned all that I know of 
horticulture, and everything else I may say, was 
a Frenchman.” 

“ Your master, did you say ? ” exclaimed 
Esther. 

“ Yes, my child, I was a slave ; but happily a 

18* N 


210 


NEW DEVELOPMENTS. 


slave to one of the best of men, who became much 
attached to me, and treated me like a child ; and, 
at his death, he gave me my freedom, and more 
than half of his property. This house and all the 
land as far west as that large, white mansion, was 
his property.” 

‘‘Who lives in the w^hite house?” asked 
Esther. 

“Madame De Lacy,” was the answer. 

“Is that the one who treated Grasiella so 
badly?” 

“No, ’t is her brother’s widow. She, too, is a 
cruel woman. I ’m mistaken, though ; she died a 
short time ago. She had a son, who was too fond 
of travelling to stay at home. They say he went 
away as soon as his mother died. I’m not ac- 
quainted with him, but I ’ve heard many stories 
about him.” 

Poor Esther’s heart beat violently; and she 
wished to ask more, but dared not speak for fear 
of betraying her emotion. After a few moments’ 
pause, her grandfather continued : 

“I have been prospered in all that I have 
undertaken. God has blessed me beyond meas- 


UNEXPECTED SIGHT. 


211 


ure. Now that I have you with me, I feel that 
my cup of mercies is full. I am an old man, 
child, and cannot expect to see this bright earth 
much longer ; yet I fear not to depart and meet 
my brothers, black and white, beyond the grave, 
where all are equal.” 

They had now approached the white house, and 
Esther saw many people on the grounds, and, at a 
distance, a gentleman and lady. She asked, 
timidly, who they were. 

“ I believe that is young De Lacy and his 
cousin Sarah. I suppose they are to be married 
soon. She is handsome, but too wicked to be a 
good wife.” 

Esther sighed heavily. 

“I see you are a tender-hearted child. I fear 
you will see and hear much to disturb your feel- 
ings ; it must always be so where there are slaves. 
You will have a fine opportunity of doing good 
among them.” ' 

She did not answer. She strained her eyes to 
catch a glimpse of De Lacy. His back was 
towards her. She thought she heard his voice as 
he turned and entered the house. She sighed. 


212 


A CONFLICT. 


and the tears chased each other silently down her 
cheeks. Hard was the struggle to become calm 
and cheerful. Once or twice she almost wished 
that she could hear something that would disgust 
her, that she might the more easily drive him 
from her thoughts. “ But,” said she, “ he was so 
good ! He must still be good ! It is evident that 
grandfather knows but little about him.” 

“ How quiet you are, child ! Don’t you like 
this drive ? ” 

“ 0, yes, sir ! very much. I was think- 
ing— ” 

“ Thinking what, my child 7 ” 

“ About the De Lacys.” 

You are, like all other girls, inquisitive, I 
see. I suppose you don’t expect to become ac- 
quainted with them. They would no more associ- 
ate with us than with their cattle.” 

‘‘ Pray, why not ? ” said Esther, eagerly. 

What a question ! Well, I see you have to 
learn that it is one thing to be yhite, and another 
black.” 

“ I shall try not to care anything about it; but 


GENEROUS RESOLVE. 


213 


to direct all my efforts to the good of people of 
my own color.’’ 

“That is right. Then you will do good to all 
mankind, for you are white enough for the whites, 
and black enough for us.” And the old man 
laughed as he patted Esther on the shoulder. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


ESTHER IN HER LOWLY HOME. 

Dinner was served in good style, but Esther 
could eat none. She complained of headache, and 
begged to be left to the quiet of' her own chamber. 
When alone, she wept and prayed. She accused 
herself of ingratitude to that gracious Father, who 
had snatched her from the hand of the wicked, 
and placed her among kind friends, in a land 
flowing with milk and honey. She begged to be 
forgiven, with the earnestness of a sincere peni- 
tent. She looked at herself; she thought she 
saw that there was . but little difference between 
her and her friends ; she was humbled and 
grieved to think that she had feared to be called 
a negress. “Alas!” sighed she; “who will 
sympathize with and counsel me 7 I am weak, 
too weak to depend upon myself. Dear father ! 
kind friends, who used to guide my wandering 
feet I may I not now address you ? Yes, yes ! K 


CONTENTMENT. 


215 


I live till to-morrowj I will write to Mr. Day, and 
to Miss G. I can find work to take me from my 
sad thoughts. I will overcome this weakness. 
De Lacy ! De Lacy ! I ’ll not disturb your peace. 
If Sarah is destined for you, God grant that you 
may both be happy ! ” 

Then she threw herself upon the bed, and wept 
again. After a while, nature was exhausted, and 
she fell into a deep sleep, from which she was not 
aroused by her aunt coming into her chamber and 
putting things in order for the night. 

When she awoke, the moon was shining 
brightly. Her head was clear, and her mind 
calm. She sat down at an open window, where 
the perfume of the orange-flower was wafted, by 
gentle breezes, to her. The rays of the moon 
were dancing and sparkling in the gushing foun- 
tain ; while, now” and then, a whistle or hum of 
negro voice broke the silence of the evening 
hour. 

“ How beautiful ! ” exclaimed Esther. This 
is now to be my own dear home ! I will not be a 
shadow where all is so bright ! To-morrow I ’ll 
begin to make myself useful in some way. I can 


216 


THE SIGH OF THE SLAVE. 


read, — that will please all the family. Then, 
perhaps, I can teach the children, and do some 
light things about the house ; and I can take care 
of the plants. I will get grandfather to buy me a 
pianoforte, and some music, and I will study so as 
to teach them all to sing. Music will be a great 
thing for us here. I can never forget my music- 
teacher, but I must try to bury him in my heart. 
I hope I shall not see him. It is well for me 
that there is no communication between the fam- 
ilies. Who knows but that he thinks me dead ? 
Well,. I am, as it were, dead to him.” 

Just then the sound of voices, beneath the win- 
dow attracted her attention. She looked out; 
there were a man and woman, seated upon a bank, 
in earnest conversation. 

‘‘ I cannot live so much longer. My patience 
will not hold out,” said the w'oman, mournfully. 

“ Dear, good Cleora ! try, for my sake, a little 
longer. I am getting along nicely, and shall soon 
have money enough to huy your freedom. Master 
Lopez helps me. He says that he will go to the 
old lady, the first chance he has, when her niece 
is out of the way, so that he can make a trade for 


READING THE BIBLE. 


217 


US. How I wish that I could change places with 
you, we are so happy here ! ” 

“ Alas ! ” replied the woman, “we are abused 
beyond measure. Our overseer is cruel enough, 
but cannot compare with Sarah. I have hardly a 
moment to myself. This visit I take from the few 
hours’ rest allotted me. And once or twice she 
has missed me, and tried to find out where I go. 
I dare not tell, lest I be deprived entirely of see- 
ing you.” 

“We must contrive to have you more with us,” 
said the man. “ A white lady is here. They 
say she is master’s grandchild. She reads to us. 
0, you must hear her ! ’T would do your soul 
good ! ” 

“ I should be so glad to hear reading, — to learn 
to read myself Sometimes, when I am sorely 
vexed, I keep my tongue still by thinking of the 
passages of Scripture you have taught me.” 

“ Can’t you steal away in the morning without 
being missed 7 I will come and do your work.” 

“ Perhaps I can. Sarah De Lacy never rises 
till almost noon ; and we are all friendly, and try 
to help each other.” 

19 


218 


A RECOGNITION. 


“ Good !” said Esther, to herself. must 
befriend this Cleora. What is mj misfortune 
compared with hers 7 ” And, trembling at the 
thought that she, too, might have been a slave, 
she fell upon her knees, and offered a heartfelt 
tribute of gratitude to the great Invisible, who 
mysteriously guides us through the varied paths 
of life. 

At sunrise the next morning she was up, and, 
to use her own expression, ready for action. She 
had fortified herself by prayer, and felt strong to 
contend with the rebellious feelings of her own 
heart. Outwardly, there was nothing to 1?rouble 
her, and to govern herself would, henceforth, be 
the great object of her solicitude. 

‘‘Bless you, Esther, dear! how pale you* 
look I ” exclaimed her affectionate grandparent. 
“ Are you sick 7 ” 

“0, no ! ” said she, with a cheerful and assur- 
ing smile, which at once dissipated his solicitude. 

When the servants collected to hear the read- 
ing of the Bible, Esther looked inquiringly for a 
new comer. There was a face she had not seen 
before, and she involuntarily gave a nod of recogni- 


MUSIC. 


219 


tion, which was responded to with an ease and 
elegance which might have graced a princess. 

After they had left the room, M. Lopez asked 
Esther what he could do for her pleasure or 
happiness, and she promptly and frankly told 
him that she wished a piano-forte and music, as 
soon as he could conveniently procure them. 

“What will become of grandfather?” said one 
of the daughters. “He is always in ecstasy at the 
sound of music. What will he do if you are a 
musician?” 

“I shall live longer, die happier, and be better 
prepared for heaven,” replied he. “I’ll go 
immediately, and order the instrument, and, 
whatever else my child may desire. God be 
praised that the means are not wanting ! Money 
enough for all our simple needs.” And, as if 
inspirited with new life, the old gentleman stepped 
off like a young man. 

“How glad we are that you have chosen 
music ! ” said three or four of the company. “ It 
will be so pleasant, and make father so cheerful ! ” 

“We love it ! we love it ! ” exclaimed several 
little ones, dancing and singing in childish glee. 


220 


LETTERS. 


Esther now sat down and wrote to her friends : 

“ I am,” said she, to Miss G., “ very hap- 
pily situated, with the kindest and best of peo- 
ple. Want no longer stares me in the face, and I 
look forward to a quiet and retired life of useful- 
ness, when, by imitating your good example, I 
may be to some unfortunate what you have so 
kindly been to me. God bless you in your labors 
of love, and repay you tenfold in the glorious 
kingdom of rest ! 

‘‘ Eemember me most respectfully to Mr. A., 
and tell him that, while I thank him for all the 
trouble he took on my account, I must warn him 
not to trust Mr. Brown again. He is a wicked 
man, and my escape from him was a wonderful 
interposition of that kind Providence who made 
me acquainted with you. 

‘‘ If you feel that you can write to the grand- 
child of a colored man, I shall be honored and 
improved by your correspondence. 

“ Address care of Gaetano Lopez, St. Augustine. 

“Yours most affectionately, 

“ Esther Le Gendre.” 


LETTERS. 


221 


To her nurse, she said : 

“ Dearest of those whom God has spared to me ! 
I am no longer the admiration of white beaux and 
fine ladies, for I am a colored girl ! Not that I 
have changed color, but that, in finding my rela- 
tives, I find myself the descendant of a negro. Is 
it not strange that we never discovered it in 
France, while here every one who puts his eye 
upon me sees it in a twinkle ? Don’t think that 
it troubles me. At first, I acknowledge, I wished 
to persuade myself that it was not so ; but now I 
am quite reconciled to be with the blacks, and 
one of them. My uncle is an excellent man. 
His children, as far as I can judge, are very amia- 
ble ; they treat me with the utmost kindness and 
attention, and I should be basely ungrateful did 
I not respect and esteem them. Only to think, 
my dear friend, that I came near being stolen and 
sold into slavery ! I am frightened when I think 
of it. A woman, whom I took to be a servant, at 
the inn where we stopped, rescued me. How shall 
I repay such a debt of gratitude ? If you write 
to M. De Lacy, please not mention me. I think, 


222 


LETTERS. 


I believe, that I am not influenced by pride, in 
making this request. He is our neighbor, as also 
his cousin Sarah, of whom you have often heard 
him speak. It is thought that he is about to 
marry her, and as I am, — feeling that I have no 
longer any claim upon his promises or his affec- 
tions, — I do not wish to cause him any unpleas- 
ant sensations, or make myself an object of con- 
tempt to Sarah, who is said to be a very proud 
and cruel woman. It was very hard for me to 
give up the thought of being, at some future time, 
united to Louis. But the struggle is past. Duty 
points me to a course entirely different from any- 
thing I had ever conceived. Tell your good hus- 
band that I am well off, and mean to make myself 
happy by an active life. Thanks to his good ex- 
ample and instruction, I feel competent to do 
much. 

wish you could both see me at this moment, 
completely surrounded by little black cherubs ; — 
some climbing on my chair and patting my cheek, 
curling my hair and kissing me ; others feeling 
my bare arms ; here a pair of bright eyes staring 
at the paper on which I am writing, and there a 


LETTERS. 


223 


little hand extended to me with a bunch of bright 
red flowers. 

“ I am to have a piano and music ; and I hope 
to teach all these little ones to sing praises to the 
good God who has blessed both them and me with 
loving hearts for each other. You will love me 
none the less for being where and what I am. I 
know you will not, for my heart is true in its first 
attachment to you. 

“ Write and tell nJe all about the folks — Kate, 
in particular. How I should like to have her here ! 
I could devote so much time to her ! 

“ What is uncle doing ? How does he feel 
towards me, now that father is dead 7 

‘‘Ido really feel quite happy. All is bright 
and beautiful, though the beauty is not so chaste 
and pure as in father’s — uncle’s house, I mean, 
in Paris. 

“Your Afiectionate 

“ Esther.” 

By the time these letters were folded, grand- 
father returned. 

In about a week the music came, and Esther 


224 


music’s charms. 


practised diligently. Every day she tried to 
teach the little ones, and before long she 'vvas 
fully employed from morning till night. Among 
the rest, Cleora occasionally stole in to learn some 
little air, and it was this which had occasioned the 
trouble with her mistress, Sarah. 

Crasiella now and then paid Uncle Lopez a 
visit ; and the little ones were left a few days 
with Miss Esther, who gladly taught them with 
the other little ones. Though M. Lopez was too 
old to sing himself, or rather to learn to sing, for 
he was a natural singer, yet he was never tired of 
listening. The old gentleman seemed to be renew- 
ing his youth in Esther’s society. 


CHAPTER XX. 

MEETING WITH DE’LACY. 

‘‘Well,” said Louis to Cleora, one day, wLen 
she returned from her singing lesson, how 
pleased you look ! IWiat good thing has hap- 
pened to you?” 

“0, I am so thankful to learn to sing, sir ! ” 

“ Indeed ! I wish I had thought of it; I might 
have been teaching you all this time. Where do 
you go to learn ? ” 

“At M. Lopez’s. His daughter plays beauti- 
fully, and she teaches all of us who can get time 
to go to her. I did feel somewhat rebellious 
when I received that whipping. I prayed, and 
felt that God did not listen ; but now I see that, 
as you said, ’t was all for the best.” 

“ Certainly, the w^hipping brought you here, 
and I hope will keep you here, or at least prevent 
Sarah ill-treating you again. I mean to take 
care of you till aunt comes, and then I shall ask 

0 


226 


HEART LONGINGS. 


her to give you to me, and I will give you your 
freedom ! Now, is n’t that much good from one 
lashing ? ” 

“ Indeed it is ! ” said the grateful woman. 

Louis knew how fond the blacks were of music, 
and he supposed that, as M. Lopez was a man of 
property, he had provided a teacher for some of 
his children. The thought of Esther of course 
was not in that connection. 

Summer had passed and autumn commenced 
before M. De Lacy was able to walk much. 
Then, as he had lost strength, the physician pro- 
posed riding on horseback. Sarah heard the 
proposition with delight, for she was fond of 
riding ; and, as she said, wished to go with Louis 
to take care of him. 

Often as he looked at her, gracefully guiding 
her horse, he wished it were Esther. Several 
times he was minded to ask her, when in good 
humor, if she knew or had heard of that unfortu- 
nate young woman ; but he feared to provoke her 
jealousy. Weeks and weeks had passed, and the 
answers to his many letter brought no intelligence 
to ease his mind. He was now in better health, 


HORSEMANSHIP. 


227 


and hoped to act, though he hardlj knew what he 
ought to do. He was very impatient to receive 
letters from France. His cousin’s came regu- 
larly ; upon his there was no dependence, — what 
did it mean ? If he spoke of the deacon and his 
wife, Sarah jeered him. 

“0, they have forgotten you by this time ! I 
am informed that they live in great style now. 
They have become quite worldly since the old 
gentleman manages matters for them.” 

She was fond of displaying her horsemanship, 
and trying different horses. She saw that she 
was a better rider than her cousin, and loved to 
excite his fears for her safety. One day, when 
she had taken particular pains to dress herself in 
a very becoming manner, she proposed racing for 
a short distance. Her appearance was attractive, 
and people crowded together to see the beautiful 
rider. While in centre of the town, Louis rode 
by her side ; but when drawing near to their 
homes, on the outskirts, and more out of sight of 
a. gaping multitude, he absolutely refused to go so 
fast, and told her that he would never ride with 
her again if she wished to make such a display. 


228 


THE ACCIDENT. 


This irritated the ladj, who pranced off in high 
dudgeon. Within a short distance of home, her 
horse took fright at a fallen tree, and became un- 
manageable. Dashing furiously along, he threw 
her upon a heap of stones, and, springing a wall, 
was caught by one of M. Lopez’s domestics. The 
old gentleman chanced to be near with some work- 
men. They took up the mangled body, and, fear- 
ing life would be extinct ere they could reach her 
home, they carried her into the house, and dis- 
patched a man for different physicians. All this 
was done so quickly, that Louis, who was jogging 
thoughtfully and leisurely along, unconscious that 
anything had happened, was surprised by a doctor 
telling him that he was called in haste to his 
cousin. He rode rapidly to his aunt’s, — but 
Sarah was not there, — then to his own house ; 
he could learn nothing of the matter. At the gate 
he met Cleora. She gave him all the particulars, 
and informed him that it was useless for him to go 
over to M. Lopez’s, as Miss Sarah was so danger- 
ously hurt, that the physicians would allow no 
one to come near her but one lady and herself 
‘‘ I ran home for more linen,” said she. “ Pray, 


ANXIOUS SOLICITUDE. 


229 


don’t come yet; you can do no good, and her 
groans will make you sick.” 

But must she not be brought home 7 ” said 
Louis. 

“ 0, no ! it will not do to move her ; besides, 
she is better off there. The lady who is with her 
seems to know just what 'to do, and she is more 
calm and collected than any of us could be. Don’t 
come yet,” repeated she, and bounded into the 
house. She soon found what she needed, and left, 
promising to send messengers as often as any 
change took place. 

Louis felt that Cleora was solicitous for his 
health, yet he wished to see his cousin, and to 
hear from the physician the extent of the injury. 
He blamed himself for allowing her to ride alone. 
It seemed a duty to go to her, and yet he felt a 
delicacy in doing so. 

I wish that she had been brought home at 
once,” said he ; — “ ’t would save a world of 
trouble. Alas ! if she be snatched away in the 
midst of her wickedness ! God be merciful to us, 
sinners ! ” And he paced the room in an excited 
state of feeling. 


230 


THE MEETING. 


Messengers from time to time informed him that 
Sarah still lived ; but this was not sufficient, — he 
must go to the house himself. M. Lopez met him 
with the urbanity of a well-bred gentleman. They 
sat and conversed socially together, and Louis de- 
parted, promising to come again the next day. It 
was twilight when he left ; and, attracted by a fine 
grove, he strolled round the side of the house. 
The opening of a window caused him to look up. 
He sprang forward, raised his arms, but the win- 
dow closed, and he walked back and forth, vainly 
striving to catch another glance of that face so 
much like Esther’s. He returned home, shut 
himself in his chamber, tried to sleep, but in vain. 
At midnight he rose, dressed himself hastily, and 
again stood before the window. The moon shone 
brightly. He looked up, and there sat Esther, 
with her face against the pane, just as he saw her 
for the first time in Paris. 

“ Esther, dear Esther ! ” he exclaimed. 

She rose, and waved her hand. He beckoned 
her to come to him. His cousin, her color, the 
time of night, all were in the instant forgotten, 
and she flew to meet him. 


THE CONVERSATION. 


231 


“ Dear Esther ! ” 

“Dear Louis ! ” was all that they could utter. 

She took him by the hand, and led him into the 
room in which she gave her music lessons. To all 
his questions she answered with the same childish 
simplicity, which had won his heart at first. And 
when she tolJ him that the fear of exposing her 
mother’s family had prevented her letting him 
know where she was, he burst into tears. 

“My own dear Esther!” said he; “I loved 
you, not for your wealth or your beauty, but for 
the purity of your soul. I have not for a moment 
ceased to love, I might say, to think of you ; and, 
let what may happen, I shall never cease to love 
you ! ” ' 

“Then you were not about to marry your 
cousin 7 ” said she, inquiringly. 

“ God forbid that I should be so punished ! ” 
said he. “ How could you think so 7 ” 

“Grandfather told it me. But stay, I must 
see my patient.” And she left him, to look after 
Sarah. 

Cleora saw her leave the room, and had taken 
her place at the bedside of the sufferer. 


232 


NEW PLANS. 


“ God be praised ! ” whispered Esther, as she 
approached. “I have found mj dear, and long- 
lost friend.” 

The next morning Louis took Esther’s Bible, 
and read to the admiring group. M. Lopez de- 
clared that he very much resembled his son, Le 
Gendre ; and when Louis told him that Esther 
was promised to him, he made no objection to 
giving her up. Grasiella and Lucile w^ere sent 
for, that they might all rejoice together. Louis 
wrote to his' aunt, giving her a brief account of 
Esther, and all that had happened during her 
absence. 

Sarah’s head was much injured, and she was a 
great sufferer for a long time. Louis, Esther and 
Cleora w'atched with her in turn. She was often 
delirious, and her ravings and fearful exclama- 
tions bespoke the agony of her mind. At these 
times they would pray with, or sing some sooth- 
ing air, which often quieted her. 

The business of his aunt devolving on him, 
Louis set about making such improvements as he 
could. In the first place, he forbade a blow being 
struck till further orders. He talked seriously 


TREACHERY UNCOVERED. 


233 


and heartily with the overseer, whom he per- 
suaded into comparative gentleness. After a 
while, by repeated acts of kindness, he secured 
the good-will of that hard man, who opened his 
heart and unburthened his conscience by acknowl- 
edging that he had aided and abetted Sarah in the 
concealment and hiding of letters for many years ; 
that she had bribed him by threats and prom- 
ises, and he had scarcely felt any repugnance at 
doing her bidding, till he was obliged to whip 
Cleora ; but the prayers of that poor girl pierced 
his soul, and the sight of Sarah disgusted him. 
He added that when he heard she had fallen from 
her horse, he was overjoyed, and had only hoped 
that it would prove the death of her. 

Louis felt at liberty to hunt for letters belong- 
ing to himself A female servant brought him 
the last package from Paris, in which was a letter 
from the deacon, which read as follows : 

‘‘ Dear Louis : Although we have written so 
many times without receiving an answer from you, 
we are not discouraged. This I trust will reach 
you, as I shall send it across the water by a 


234 


LETTERS FROM PARIS. 


friend. I am sure something has happened to our 
letters. I say ours, for I know that you have 
written to me, since you are yet in the land of 
the living. 

‘‘ I have to inform Esther, who, I understand, 
is your next neighbor, though you know it not, 
that her uncle is dead. He has left no will; con- 
sequently she is sole heir to all his possessions. 
We will do the best we can to have everything as 
it used to be, so that, when she returns to her own 
house, she may find herself at home. She will 
miss her dear father ; but will not her heavenly 
Parent give her some other stout and manly heart 
to rest upon 7 Ask this to her old friend Louis. 
If I am not much mistaken, he wdll love her none 
the less for being faithful in her calling. 

‘‘All are impatient to see Esther. Kate is 
quite a respectable sort of a person. You will be 
surprised to find how much she has improved. 

“ Come Esther, come Louis, come quickly. 

“ Yours, G. Day.” 

Both the young people were thankful for the 
property, that they might have the means of 
doing good. 


ESTHER’S SCHEMES. 


235 


“ Now you can free your own people, and 
Cleora,” said Esther. “ And I can make Grasi- 
ella and her sister a handsome present. It will 
be no matter if your aunt does disinherit you ; I 
shall have enough for us all. How are all things 
brought about for my good ! I am unworthy of 
such innumerable blessings ! ” 

Esther would have delayed their marriage 
till they returned to France, but Louis would not 
hear of it. ‘‘I must make my good people ac- 
quainted with you,” said he. 

‘‘ But the white people will talk so much about 
us,” insisted she. 

“ And why should we care for them, or what 
they say 1 Are we not sufficient for each other 7 
And can we not be happy, as we have been, in 
helping those poor creatures, who have so few to 
be interested in them ? ” 

“I am willing" to do what you judge for the 
best. I will even live here, if you like, and 
devote myself to the education and improvement 
of the blacks,” said Esther. 

“ Can you, will you sacrifice all that you 
might enjoy in France for the good of these?” 
exclaimed the enraptured philanthropist. 


236 


SARAH’S PENITENCE. 


“It is even so; and no merit to me for it,” 
answered she. “ I have learned to love them ; 
they are affectionate and faithful, and I am sure 
that I can be happy, anywhere, with you ! ” 

“ We will not be hasty in our plans. This is a 
matter which requires reflection and prayer. 
Now, dearest,” added he, “I see nothing to pre- 
vent our being united here in your grandfather’s 
house. Shall we say next week ? ” 

“ I am willing,” w^as the reply. 

Sarah’s head was better, and the physician said 
it would be safe to take her home ; hut she refused 
to be moved. Her eyes had been bandaged, so that 
she did not see Esther. Cleora’s voice she rec- 
ognized, and had more than once thanked hei’ 
for her kindness. Louis spent much time in 
conversation with her, and often she exhibited 
signs of penitence for her past wickedness. One 
day she said to him, “Who is the sweet young 
woman who does so much for me 7 She cannot 
be a colored girl; she is very refined.” 

“ Does not her voice remind you of some one in 
France 7 ” asked Louis. 

“ I do not think of any such person. Among 
14* 


POWER OF KINDNESS. 


237 


all my acquaintances there is no one who could 
have done what she has for me. Really, Louis, I 
believe that I am more indebted to her and Cleora 
for my life, than I am to the doctors.” 

“ Thank God that you feel so, cousin ! I trust 
that this accident will be the means of making you 
view life in a different light. How do you feel 
about prayer now 7 Do you like to hear it, — to 
pray yourself 7 ” 

' ‘‘I hardly know,” replied she. “My mind 
wanders. I cannot think of anything clearly. 
But I wish to know who is so kind to me ! ” 

“ God, your Father in heaven, is kind to you, 
and all of us.” 

“ I know that ; but the woman whose gentle 
hand has so many times soothed my aching head,” 
said she, earnestly. 

“ Do you think you will try to love her, if I 
tell you 7 ” 

“ I do love her ! I am not a monster, to be 
insensible to such kindness ! I have known that 
she was near me night after night, and seemed to 
me as mother did when I was an innocent 
child.” 


238 


SAILING FOR FRANCE. 


Louis could not help pronouncing the name of 
Esther Le Gendre, with a tremulous voice. 

“Is it possible ! ” said Sarah. “ I thought I 
was dreaming w'hen I heard her and Cleora talk- 
ing about you. Am I not in my own chamber 7” 

“ No, dear cousin. You were brought into M. 
Lopez’s.” 

“ 0, yes ! I remember, they wanted to take 
me home ; but I am better off here. Where is 
aunt 7 I have many things to say to her. Do 
you think I shall get well 7 ” 

“No doubt you will, and help us carry out our 
plans. You will have learned what it is to suffer, 
and will have different views and feelings. But we 
must not talk so much, ’t will worry you.” 

Contrary to their expectations, she passed a 
quiet night after this conversation. 

When she began rapidly to improve, Esther 
devoted less time to her than she had hitherto 
done, and assisted Louis more in the arrangement 
and ordering of the two households under his 
care. 

Before their aunt returned, they sailed for 
France, promising the good grandfather a speedy 
return. 


THE CONCLUSION. 


239 


Who can describe the pleasure of such a meet- 
ing as took place in the family-room of Le Gen- 
dre ? How many tears, praises, and thanksgivings, 
were drawn forth by the mutual tales of trials and 
sufferings of those four Christian people ! 

God will never leave nor forsake those who 
trust in Him!” said the deacon. “Esther has 
passed through the furnace of affliction. May 
she brighten us all with the lustre of her good 
deeds ! ” 

After visiting all the poor whom they had here- 
tofore known, and sending letters and presents to 
the absent ones, they collected what remained, 
after making the deacon and his wife comfortable, 
and returned to America, where they formed a sort 
of colony. 

Does the reader believe it impossible to live 
happily, as these good people did, in a community 
of negroes ? Let him pray that his Christianity 
may be more Christ-like, and his heart so enlarged 
that he can take in all mankind as his brothers. 




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